


No Prince Charming

by rustingroses



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Language, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustingroses/pseuds/rustingroses
Summary: He was supposed to marry Prince Charming and have the happy ending he so desperately craved. But Spock was no Prince Charming, and he sure as hell wasn't in a fairytale. However, as Spock's Time approached, it looked like he might not have a choice in the matter, and that scared him more than anything. Amok time remix.





	1. Chapter 1

He couldn’t remember the scene clearly anymore.

He was seven at the time, so he supposed that was only to be expected. Memories fade over time, even ones as vivid as the day he was bonded. These days, he mostly remembered vague impressions, the feel of a hand, the brush of cloth against the ground, his parents’ expressions. He couldn’t remember what was said anymore, perhaps because the most pervasive thing he remembered from that entire time was the silence. There was the strained silence in the shuttlecraft to Vulcan to make the bond in the first place where his parents had exchanged loaded looks but hadn‘t said more than a pair of words to him. There was the dead, hot silence of Vulcan itself, the heat that pervaded every inch of the planet and blanketed everything, a choking silence. There was the cautious silence of his parents, and the equally cautious silence of the Vulcan family that had summoned them there in the first place. It wasn’t until later- years later- that he found out that he’d been essentially used as a political alliance, as a _game piece_ , thanks to the fact that his brain scans during his early childhood had shown that he was a particularly intelligent individual and had a reasonably high psi-rating, high enough that he had the mental capacity to enter into such a bond.

He chafed at the idea now, though he hadn’t then. After all, he hadn’t really understood it then. His dad, blue eyes glowing, had described it as two princes being united in marriage so that their countries could become one. He’d taken to the idea then, the idea that he could be so important, so vital, filling every inch of his skin with a wary excitement. Later he found out that he wasn’t the first, wasn’t the only, but nevertheless the joyful anticipation and desire had risen in him, and he’d felt that if they really were princes, they should have a fairytale ending, with true love and forever and perfection.

Then he’d met his betrothed ( _koon-ul_ , a distant voice whispered, and there was something dark in the tone, something a little bitter) and the fairytale had fallen away in the face of reality. There would be no joy between the two princes, no until death do us part and they lived happily ever after. Instead, there was silence, because that pale, wraith-like figure across from him was quiet and withdrawn. He stared at the ground almost the entire time.

This was the boy he was to end up with for the rest of his life.

His _telsu_.

His Prince Charming.

Spock.

Spock carried that silence, that stillness that had been so pervasive all round him in him, but there was something more to it. His eyes were a little too large in his round face and there was something about the way he held himself, as though he expected to be hit. There was nothing bright about him, nothing hopeful or sweet, just a little painful and a little sad.

It made him want to recoil.

He’d hoped that Spock would be worth it, a proper Prince Charming, but instead Spock was stiff and cold, and there was a part of him that rejected his half-Vulcan bondmate. He didn’t want to be with him, not when he couldn’t imagine having to spend forever together with the child opposite him. He clenched his hands in his traditional Vulcan robes- his mom had insisted, and his dad had agreed- and began to burn with a slow, childish hatred.

And then had come that moment where amid all that tight silence they’d touched. He’d flinched away from that hand so close to his face, but there had been nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. So that hand had come to rest against his temple like hot silk, and then…

And then…

There was nothing could be said, nothing that could properly describe the half seen images that ghosted along the edges of his perception, the idea that he was two people, himself and Spock, the feeling that there was an explosion taking place in the center of his heart, his mind, his soul. Something twanged, vibrating between the pair of them like the purest note, shivering in the air and he wanted desperately to hear more. Something warm and tight built between them before abruptly shattering as Spock removed his hand, and he nearly cried at the sheer sense of loss at being along in his mind, with only the slightest hint of warmth fluttering at the back of his head.

He staggered back-

And woke up.

Jim groaned, low and slow, more vibration than sound. He hated when he dreamed of his bond ceremony; it always left him groggy and living half in dream, half in reality the following day. He would start at odd things that would appear at the corner of his eye, would smell things that weren’t there and it made him twitchy, like a paranoid drug addict. He groaned again, shifting against Gary’s body and scrubbing his stubble against the other man’s collarbone, trying to settle back into sleep.

Gary shifted his body in response, throwing a leg over Jim’s and curling into him. Jim arched into the warmth, sleepy haze still clouding his thoughts. “What time is it?” Gary asked, voice rough in Jim’s ear.

Jim opened his eye a crack and peered at the alarm clock. “5:47,” Jim groaned and turned back into Gary’s arms, burrowing under the covers and laying a series of light kisses against Gary’s collarbone. “Too early, go back to sleep. Our alarm doesn’t go off for another hour and a half.”

“No,” Gary said, blinking a little in the early morning light. He ran a hand through his hair and peered down at Jim, who was resting against him still, to all appearances having returned to sleep. “Don’t pull this shit on me,” Gary said, laugh bubbling up in his chest as he carded his fingers through Jim‘s hair. He planted a kiss on Jim’s forehead. “You woke me up with your groaning. The least you can do it tell me what it’s all about.”

“Can’t you just let me be?” Jim growled, pulling a little out of Gary’s embrace and trying to distract him by sucking a hickey into life. Gary raised his head a little, exposing more skin, and Jim hoped that he’d successfully diverted the conversation away from his dream. For a moment the skin under his lips blazed with far more heat that Gary could ever produced, and Jim shuddered, pulling his mouth away and blinking owlishly as more light seeped into the room. He could still feel the heat against his lips, but knew the source hadn‘t been Gary.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Gary said, surprisingly gently, tilting Jim‘s face up and stealing a proper kiss despite the early morning breath. “Let me guess, dream about Spock again?”

Jim huffed out a breath and turned away from Gary completely. “Please not now,” Jim requested, but without much hope. Gary was like a terrier with a bone when it came to Jim’s bond. Jim’d done the gentlemanly thing when they’d moved from fuck buddies to dating, of course, and told Gary all about the bond and Spock and his role in Spock‘s Time. Of course, he hadn‘t told Gary the nitty gritty details, since even he could appreciate that the Vulcans didn‘t want that sort of personal information spread around. Even so, Jim had told Gary about how little he knew about what he was supposed to do afterwards, how little he knew about the Vulcan culture, how little he wanted to be with Spock, the boy who was little more than a dim memory. Gary had understood, and sympathized with it all, and Jim had hoped that would be the end of it.

Naturally, it wasn’t the end of it. Though Gary knew how much Jim hated to so much as think about what would be happening within the next few years, it didn’t stop him from saying, “What happened?”

Jim got out of bed, pacing across the floor. “Come on,” Gary said, the first sign of impatience and irritation creeping into his voice. “What’s the big deal, Jim? So what, you dreamed about the Vulcan freak. Maybe talking it out will help. What?” Gary said when Jim still didn‘t answer, and he was well and truly irritated now, going so far as to sit up in bed as Jim began throwing on clothing. “What the fuck, Jim? Don’t do this shit at six in the morning! And don‘t blame me just for asking, dammit!

Jim just snarled, wordless and low, and stomped out of the room, wishing that the door could be slammed shut. It just wasn’t as satisfying when there was nothing more than a whisper of sound to indicate that something was happening. He sighed heavily when the door was closed and leaned against it for a long moment, anger draining out of him. He debated going back in, but his pride rebelled and he made his way slowly down to the dining hall, where he drank several cups of coffee in an effort to wake his brain all the way up. About halfway through his first cup of coffee, Jim felt wretched about his behavior, though he wasn’t pleased about Gary’s pushing either. Still, it wasn’t Gary’s fault that he’d been bonded in some sort of freakish political alliance, where no one talked about what it really meant to be bonded (thank you, closemouthed asshole Vulcans) besides that the bonded was supposed to submit in their partner’s Time of need.

Beyond that though…nothing. No information on the culture, on what would be expected of him after _pon farr_ on Vulcan. Nobody said what he was supposed to do there. He got a yearly missive that basically said, “Well, Spock’s still alive and so are you. Huzzah,” but he didn’t know anything about Spock as a person, didn’t know how he felt about the whole bond thing. Jim wondered occasionally if Spock was as bitter about the arrangement as he was, if he too felt like he’d been just used as a bargaining chip, a figurative princess to be married off to the nearest convenient warm body. Hell, he didn’t even know if Spock was interested in men, though presumably they had some sort of way to determine that before the bonding process. There were just so many questions left unanswered that Jim felt scrubbed raw under the influence of the stiff-lipped Vulcans.

Jim nursed his coffee, unaware of the other students filtering in, and tried to compile the things that he knew about Spock. He was a half-Vulcan, the product of one of the earlier male-female pairings made. His mother was the Human, if he recalled correctly, and his father was the Vulcan. Spock was currently studying at the Vulcan Science Academy, though he’d also applied to Starfleet.

That was it. In a way, it hurt Jim, that Spock hadn’t so much as sent a missive to let Jim know personally that he existed, especially if they were basically supposed to have sex upon their first meeting. It couldn’t hurt the guy to reach out, just a little, even if he was Vulcan. Of course, Jim hadn’t made the effort either, so supposed that he had no room to judge. It was about at this point that his thoughts began to chase itself in circles so he refocused his thoughts on the bond.

What he knew about the bond and what would occur after was even less impressive than what he knew about Spock. He, like all of the couples, had been bonded to his intended at the age of seven, presumably to test compatibility and to ensure that the bond would hold come the Time. He knew that the bond was a mental link between himself and Spock, one through which emotions and thoughts could be passed once the full-fledged bond was in place. It would mean that he was Spock’s in way that Jim couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and that frightened him more than a little. In addition, it had been drilled into his head that he was to submit when _pon farr_ came upon Spock. He was not to fight Spock or risk both mental and physical damage- he could only submit to Spock and welcome the half-Vulcan’s body with his own.

Lastly- and perhaps most important- Jim could challenge. When Spock’s Time came, he could undergo _kal’i’fee_.

The Challenge.

It had been mentioned to Jim almost as an afterthought, as though he wouldn’t possibly consider it. Of course, the fact that no one had challenged in the better part of a thousand years probably had something to do with their complacency. Even so, Jim had long since clung to the idea that he would have the right to have a champion, his white knight in shining armor, fight Spock for his hand. Unfortunately, while it was fine in theory, there wasn’t anyone that Jim felt comfortable with asking to be his champion.

Gary seemed to be the obvious answer, but Jim hadn’t so much as mentioned _kal’i’fee_ for two reasons. Firstly, Gary didn’t have the experience necessary to fight a Vulcan, even a half-Vulcan. Sure, Spock would probably be weaker than normal because of _plak tow_ , but that was hardly a guarantee. Secondly, and more importantly, Jim didn’t feel he had the right to ask that of Gary. They were dating, they were in like, in lust- all of that was true. However, the risks to Gary being his champion were simply too great; Gary wasn‘t obligated to fight for him, and Jim wasn‘t entirely sure he wanted to be that beholden to Gary either. They weren’t making plans for forever. They were just dating, and casually at that. Therefore, asking Gary to fight, to lay his life on the line for Jim wasn’t something that he could even consider, despite the fact that Gary despised the idea of Jim being locked into a loveless and binding relationship almost as much as Jim himself did. Gary had told him flatly several times that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right- Jim wasn’t a mail order bride, and deserved to be treated well by someone who genuinely loved him.

It was a nice sentiment, but it was just that- a sentiment. A nice thought, if life was fair, but it wasn’t and never had been.

Nonetheless, Gary had earned some truly amazing sex from that little argument. It was the first time someone had argued for Jim’s side, speaking the words that Jim had thought so often to himself. His mom and dad hadn’t been able to get past the honor of being chosen, of the success rate between the couples. They’d even taken the time to speak with Spock’s mother to get her opinion on being bonded, and her incandescent joy had been enough for Jim’s family to seal the deal, with or without Jim’s permission. As a result, when Jim had gotten older, had begun to rebel against being so irrevocably bound, he and his parents had had argument after argument to try and settle the matter to no avail.

They didn’t speak much these days.

Jim abruptly felt ill. This was all too much. First the dream and the fight with Gary, now struggling through his abysmal knowledge of the situation. It made him crave a glass of something considerably more powerful than coffee. As it was, the coffee wasn’t sitting so well on an empty stomach. Jim rubbed his head, which was already beginning to ache, and stood, intent on slogging through his classes for the day so he could go back to the room he and Gary shared and just take a nap. Maybe sleep would help wash away some of the memories that were clinging to his consciousness.

When he got back to the room that afternoon, he saw that was empty and he let out a sigh of relief. Though he was ready to talk it out, Gary had a notorious hot temper, and he and Jim had shouted themselves hoarse on more than one occasion over the stupidest issues. If Gary hadn’t cooled off by the time he got back to the room, it was likely they’d be involved in yet another argument, which Jim desperately wanted to avoid. In the meantime, however, the room was empty and Jim was tired. He collapsed on his bed, letting his eyes slip closed as he sank into sleep.

Gary kissed him awake, a long, slow kiss that made Jim smile sleepily. Gary brushed a thumb against Jim’s cheekbone, drawing him all the way out of sleep. Jim sat up, scooting back on the bed, inviting Gary to come sit with him. Gary regarded him warily for a moment. “Can we talk about what happened this morning?” he asked carefully, clearly as unwilling as Jim was to have yet another argument.

Jim bit his lip, but nodded. Gary’s expression relaxed and he kicked off his shoes, climbing into the narrow single next to Jim. Academy beds were many things, but comfortable wasn’t really one of them. “Look…” Gary said slowly, rubbing little circles on Jim’s hip, “I don’t really know a whole lot about the whole thing, and I know it bugs you when I bring it up. So just tell me one thing. Tell me that you’ve got some way to get out if you really want to. Tell me you aren’t going to be forced into this because of some stupid bond made when you were seven.”

Jim hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to drag Gary any further into this mess than he had to, especially because they weren‘t all that serious about each other. However, Gary’s eyes were earnest and pleading, and Jim felt himself cave, saying, “Yes. I’ve got one shot, if I really want to. In Spock’s Time, if I want, I can challenge his…claim…on me,” Gary’s lip curled in disgust at that.

“How?” Gary pressed, and Jim could feel the words practically being sucked out of him.

He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want to say this, that he could stop at any time, but the reality was that he wanted someone to save him from his fate, to be his real Prince Charming, and Gary was lending a listening ear. Jim hated feeling like a princess waiting for someone to come to the rescue; he was stronger than that, better than that. And yet in the same breath he didn’t have a choice. So he explained what _kal’i’fee_ meant, how in the ceremony he would be given the opportunity to challenge, if he had a champion that could beat Spock.

“So let me get this straight. Spock’s Time or whatever comes, and all you need is someone who’s willing to kick Spock’s ass, thereby freeing you from the bond and ensuring that Spock’s going to have to get his rocks off with someone else. Is that it?”

“Basically, yeah,” Jim agreed. He very carefully didn’t say anything more, trying his best to let Gary make whatever decision he thought was best.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Gary asked finally, sounding wounded. “I mean, I’d do it!”

Jim started at that, turning towards Gary. “But-”

“Hey, I’m not saying that we’ll have to be together forever, but give me some credit. No one deserves to be put in this situation Jim, no one. I couldn’t just abandon you to your fate. No matter what, you’re my friend first. Besides, the challenge doesn’t sound too bad. I mean, come on. Spock’s probably going to be weaker and exhausted and whatnot from that _plat kow_ or whatever it‘s called, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to take him down. I’ve got my black belt in aikido. All I’ll need to do is some strength training and a little endurance training, to combat that Vulcan strength and atmosphere.” Gary shrugged, and with a little laugh he continued, “I was planning on upping my workouts anyways. I don’t see why you didn’t mention this earlier, Jim. Don’t you trust me? I course I’d do it. I see how upset you get about this.”

Jim felt his face crumple a little, an odd reaction to having that weight finally lifted off his shoulders. His life could be his again, he could finally do what he wished instead of being stuck in a loveless marriage with a cold, stuck-up, selfish Vulcan. He thought maybe he should demur, but Jim wanted it so badly. He reached down and pulled Gary up to him, doing his best to show Gary how much he’d just given Jim in a breath, a look, a caress. Jim bodily climbed on top of Gary, kissing him deeply, letting their tongues stroke against each other in a show of passion.

Gary broke the kiss, looking up at Jim, dark eyes glimmering. His mouth was kiss swollen and Jim wanted nothing more than to lose himself in a tangle of limbs, to feel skin against skin. “It’s not an obligation, Jim.” Gary whispered up to him, hand coming up to brush over Jim’s lips. “After I win, I don’t expect you to do anything for me.” Gary winked at him. “What is it they say, ‘if you love something, let it go and if it comes back, then you know’. I won’t barter for your freedom. I’ll fight for it.”

Jim felt the tears that had been building all day spill over, and he let Gary kiss them away, let his warmth sooth the ache in him and act as a balm for his soul. And when it was all over, when he was sated once more, Jim returned to sleep, Spock disappearing from his thoughts completely.

~*~

When their console rang, Jim cursed, hoping across the floor as he tried to get his jeans on properly. “Gary, can you get that?” he called, as he buttoned his jeans. He was trying to get ready for their date, but as usual he’d waited until the last possible second to get ready. Now Gary was hanging out in the main room while Jim attempted to get dressed in ten minutes so they could make their reservations in time.

“You owe me,” Gary called back. “Get your ass moving before I leave without you!”

Jim rolled his eyes at Gary’s dramatics before returning his attention to getting ready. Jim tried to pull off the deodorant cap with one hand while simultaneously trying to figure out if his favorite green polo shirt was clean or not. As he smeared on the deodorant, he noticed that there was silence in the other room, the kind of dead silence that can never be good. “Who is it?” He called, sticking his head out the bathroom door.

“Hi, Jim,” his mother said from the screen.

Jim froze, deodorant dropping from his limp fingers. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. She’d grown older in the year since he’d last spoken to her, and her face was more heavily lined, her hair streaked with grey. There was that same familiar steel in her eyes, however, the steel that she’d passed onto her son. “Mom,” he croaked, “Hi.”

Gary looked from Jim to his mother, eyes wide. “Um, I’ll just b-be, you know, uh, o-outside,” he stammered. He left the room without so much as a second glance to either of them, but Jim didn’t even notice.

“What do you want?” Jim said stiffly, making no move to come closer to the vid. “I’ve got about three minutes before I have to leave with Gary, so talk quickly.” He knew he sounded cold, but he was sick and tired with their frequent arguments.

“Gary?” His mother said, eyes going opaque. Jim couldn’t tell what she thought of the fact that he was dating, but his instincts shouted that it wasn‘t good. His father had always said that Jim should life his life freely before he was fully bound to Spock and experience everything a teenager was usually exposed to, while his mother had been more divided on the subject, torn between whether it was acceptable or not. She had always been more of the opinion that if Spock and Jim were so compatible, then Jim shouldn’t need to date further because his future was all but set in stone.

“Yeah,” Jim said, knowing he sounded belligerent and totally unable to stop it, “Gary.” He raised an eyebrow, daring his mother to say something.

Instead of getting furious as he expected, his mother sighed, the lines in her face deepening a little and sadness creeping into her eyes. “I don’t want to argue, Jimmy. We’ve hashed and rehashed this matter about a million times. You know that I only wanted- only want- the best for you.”

In the face of his mother’s genuine plea, Jim felt something cave. Whatever else, he _did_ know that his parents genuinely believed that what they were doing was for the best. As a result of his bond with Spock, he’d been given the highest schooling possible, despite living in the Middle of Nowhere, Iowa. He’d been given the opportunity to study on the Europa colony his junior year of high school, been given a free ride into Starfleet when he‘d politely turned down the Vulcan Embassy‘s invitation to apply to the Vulcan Science Academy with an almost guaranteed acceptance. He’d been given yearly evaluations to ensure that the bond was still functioning properly, and that nothing major had changed his compatibility with Spock. He’d lived the dream life, to a certain extent, and he had to admit that he wasn‘t locked into the bond. He _did_ have the opportunity to challenge. There were still issues, there were things he didn‘t like, of course, but he hadn‘t gone out of his way to resolve them himself, instead relying on others for the answer. If he wanted more information, he should have fought for it, he should have…

But there was no sense going over regrets. “Yeah, Mom,” Jim said, and suddenly he was as tired as his mother looked. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it, Jimmy,” His mom said and then she smiled a little, bright and sweet. Jim suddenly remembered all the good times, the way she was always around to throw a real baseball with him, the way she’d tickle him until he’d begged for mercy, her incredible chocolate chip cookies, her glowing pride at the fact that her little boy was so brilliant, so incredibly intelligent and good natured that she’d had eight offers from various Vulcan families before settling on S’chn T’gai Spock and his family. There were probably more things too, things that Jim had forgotten over time or had been too young to remember properly. “Please, if this is an inconvenient time, we can talk later. This is important. I want you to be able to give me your full attention.”

Jim bit his lip, thinking carefully for a moment. He could go on a date with Gary anytime, but this sounded important, and his newfound softness towards his mother told him that he should sit down and listen. “Don’t hang up, Mom. Listen, let me just talk to Gary. We can postpone, or something. I‘ll be right back.”

With that, Jim went to the doorway, stepping out into the hall. Gary was fiddling on his PADD, turning when he heard the door open. He looked at Jim’s still shirtless torso, and then said, “What’s happening?”

“Look, I don’t want to bail on you…” Jim sucked in a breath, meeting Gary’s eyes, “But would you mind hanging out somewhere else for a while? Mom says that it’s important and…” he gestured helplessly. “I’ll give you a call later, alright?”

Gary didn’t look especially pleased, but he eventually nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed shortly before stomping off without so much as a good bye kiss or wishing him good luck. Jim shook his head. He didn’t have time to cater to Gary’s needs at the moment.

When Gary had disappeared down the hallway, Jim turned to go back in the room, but couldn’t quite make himself take that final step in. Jim suspected that he knew what this was about. He’d been told, of course, that it would most likely happen sometime between Spock’s twenty-fifth and thirty-fifth years, if he continued to favor Vulcan biology. He we a little early, perhaps, at twenty-three, but Spock was also half Human.

Jim’s heart began to beat faster and then began to race, blood thundering in his veins. He steeled himself, stepping into the dorm room he shared with Gary once more. “Alright, you’ve got my attention,” Jim said quietly. He sat on the chair in front of the console. His father had joined his mother, and the pair of them were clearly clasping their hands out of view of the vid. Jim felt the blood begin to drain from his face and he swallowed.

He almost immediately stood back up and began pacing back and forth across the room, too jittery to continue to sit, not when both of his parents were watching him with such serious expressions. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “Spock’s going through _pon farr_ , isn’t he?” Jim said before either of them could speak. He felt as if he said it first, it would somehow soften the blow.

He fisted his hands, waiting breathlessly for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

On the screen, his parents exchanged a long, loaded look, and Jim knew the answer before his parents actually said anything. “The Vulcan healers report that he’ll be going through it within the year,” his father confirmed in a near silent voice.  
  
Jim felt his vision grey out as he became lightheaded and collapsed in the chair in front of the vid. For a terrifying moment, he thought he actually was going to faint like some brainless princess confronted with bad news.  
  
But it was bad news, and it would change his entire life from here on out. He would have to leave Starfleet and go to Vulcan. His hopes, his dreams, his fierce desire to captain a starship had all been shattered beneath the force of the news. He…what the hell was he supposed to do now? Fear boiled up in him, and he made a small choked sound. The words rattled around in his skull, and for a moment he couldn’t get past them, couldn‘t do anything but listen to them over and over. He swayed in his chair, roaring in his ears preventing him from hearing his parents’ gasped cries as they asked if he was alright. He clenched the edge of the table in his hands. “Are you sure?” he asked, and his voice was thready and panicked. “Are you _sure_?”  
  
“We’re positive. You know that the Vulcans have honed their predictions to an art. They haven‘t been wrong in five hundred years, maybe more,” his mother said, and her eyes were worried. “Jim, what’s wrong? You’ve known this was coming. It’s a little sooner than you expected, perhaps, but considering that he’d half-Human, we were aware that it was a possibility.”  
  
“I know. I know. I just…” Jim couldn’t meet their eyes. It was clear that they thought he shouldn’t be freaking out over this. Yet Jim couldn‘t seem to stop panicking because this was all coming to a head, this was really happening. He took a breath to steady himself. He reminded himself that it was his right to challenge, but it wasn’t as reassuring a thought as it normally was with his parents staring worriedly at him. He knew they wouldn’t understand- they thought that this was a great opportunity. At the mere thought of their disapproval, he felt a vague sense of guilt at what he’d been planning with Gary over the past six months. He told himself that wasn’t doing it to be deliberately cruel to Spock. He just wanted to live his own life, and be free to do whatever the fuck he wanted; surely that was something that Spock could understand. His stomach clenched, but he managed to regain his composure, smiling weakly at his parents. “Sorry, it just kind of surprised me. It’s a little surreal, you know? You spend your entire life hearing about something, knowing it‘s going to happen and so on, and then to have it actually happen is a little weird.” He started to laugh and then stopped, because it sounded positively despondent.  
  
“Jim,” his mother breathed, and her eyes went wide.  
  
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jim said, and he stood, brushing at his eyes. “Listen, if I’m going to have this conversation I need to put on a shirt. I can’t talk about sex with my parents without a shirt on, so hold that thought, alright?” That terrible laugh escaped for another moment, and he shut his mouth, teeth clicking against each other. He went to the bathroom, where his shirt still lay by the sink. It didn’t matter if it was clean or not anymore. He threw it on and spent a good thirty seconds staring at his expression.  
  
His eyes were wild, his face wan and pinched. He looked a heartbeat away from sprinting, from just running until he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other anymore. He looked terrified, horrified, desperate.  
  
When he couldn’t look at his reflection anymore, he splashed a little water on his face to get rid of the worst of the fear sweat and wiped at his face with a towel. He pulled on what he privately thought as his ‘Captain’s face’, the face that he used when he wanted to hide all his feelings when he was in a simulation that was going poorly and he couldn’t let his team down by cracking under the pressure. It was the expression that gave the impression of serene calm even when he was on the edge of breaking down completely. He took a second look at the mirror, and saw that he was much calmer now, at least as far as appearances were concerned. His mind was still in turmoil. He inhaled and exhaled once, nice and slow, and then made his way back out, seating himself in front of the vid once more.  
  
His parents looked visibly relieved at his now-steady features. “Sorry,” Jim said, more out of habit than actual feeling. He smiled, and though it wasn’t the least bit real, at least he no longer felt like his mask was going to crack as a result. “Like I said, I was just shocked.” Jim took another breath, summoning to the forefront of his mind the knowledge that Gary, at least, was on his side and would fight for him. For some reason, the thought didn’t make him feel any better, but he didn’t have the chance to analyze the feeling before his father began speaking again.  
  
“The term ends in three weeks, right?” His father said, but didn’t wait for the confirmation before continuing, “Your mother and I think that it would be best if you put in a leave of absence at the end of this term and go to Vulcan. You’ve probably got another couple of months before Spock’s Time, but, firstly, that’s not a guarantee so you should err on the side of caution and go there as soon as possible. Secondly, it’s an excellent opportunity for you and Spock to really get to know each other, especially if you’re going to be bonded. We‘ve already been in contact with Amanda and Sarek, and they‘ve told us that they‘re more than willing to welcome you into their home and their family.” He smiled, clearly happy that his son would be in safe hands.  
  
Jim tried his best not to blanch, and he was pretty sure he was at least moderately successful. He fought to remind himself that it was the next logical step, that his parents had discussed his going to Vulcan during Spock’s Time more than once. It was only to be expected. After all, no one really wants to have sex with a complete stranger if they were then supposed to spend the rest of their lives together, and even if Jim was plotting a way to free himself of his obligation, well, his parents weren’t exactly aware of that fact, so of course they would want him to meet Spock.  
  
Even as he nodded and said something appropriately placating, Jim wondered what his parents would say if they knew of Jim’s plans to have Gary challenge Spock in _kal’i’fee_. Something told him that they wouldn’t be especially pleased. They believed more readily than he did in the idea of Vulcan bonding, truly believed that the Vulcans were exceedingly careful to put together individuals who only had the highest compatibility, that they could somehow sense that Jim and Spock were perfect matches even at seven years old.  
  
Jim had the rest of the conversation on autopilot, saying the lines he was supposed to say without actually meaning any of them. Twenty minutes after the conversation had finished, he made his way to his bed and sat on it in a daze. He’d officially submitted his leave of absence, bought his ship tickets and sent the information along to Spock’s family. To his potential parents-in-law.  
  
Oh God.  
  
This was actually happening.  
  
Jim fought down his sense of panic, his absolute revulsion, his desperate fear. He stared blankly at the console, chest heaving, but he couldn’t seem to get in enough breath. Anger overtook him, then, and he managed to get a hold of himself. He centered himself as he’d been taught to do in his combat classes, steadfastly quelling his emotion so he could think more clearly.  
  
This didn’t change anything. The only thing it did was give him and Gary a finite time span in which to be ready to challenge Spock. They could do this. They _would_ do this. The only thing that they would need to figure out at this point is how Gary would actually get to Vulcan in time. Jim couldn’t very well take him along with him when he went to Vulcan and say, “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Spock. This is my friend Gary. No, that wasn’t raucous sex you heard last night, because I am completely and totally devoted to your son. And no, I am not planning to be the first person in a thousand years to challenge during a Vulcan‘s _pon farr_.”  
  
Jim wished it could be that simple.  
  
Gary found him like that, two hours later, hot words on his lips the minute he stormed into the room. “Jim, I’ve called you about seven times! Why the fuck haven’t you answered the console or your comm, dammit?!”  
  
The words gave Jimmy something terribly concrete to focus on, and the stress from the day and the frantic emotions thrumming through his veins provided plenty of fuel. With a snarl, Jim turned to him, ire flaring. “I was a little bit _busy_ rearranging my _entire fucking life_ , Gary! My parents just told me that Spock’s Time is coming up! I think I can be forgiven for being _fucking distracted_ , you _asshole_.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
So simple a word, so quiet and abashed made all the anger drain from Jim and he wrapped his arms around himself. “Oh, Jim,” Gary said quietly, and he stepped further into the room, coming to sit next to Jim. He crouched next to Jim, pressing kisses to his lips. Jim turned his face away, pulling out of range of Gary’s touches. Sometimes he hated the fact that Gary tried to solve everything with sex. He wanted to be reassured with words, with the knowledge that Gary was still willing to help free him.  
  
When Jim turned away from Gary, the other man sighed heavily, brow knitting, unsure as to what Jim wanted from him. “Sorry?” he tried, but his tone made it sound more like a question than an actual apology. Jim’s lips tightened for a moment. “It’ll be okay, Jim. I promise.”  
  
Jim shrugged a little, eyes questing for reassurance in Gary’s face. “It’ll only be okay if you fight and win, Gary. Are you…it’s one thing to know it in the abstract, but it’s here, it’s going to be coming in a couple of months. You’re going have to fight my…fiancé.” Jim grimaced at the word, because it left a bad taste in his mouth. “You have to tell me now, Gary, if you can go through with this, because if you tell me last minute that you’re not going to be able to fight,” Jim closed his eyes, unable to verbalize his thoughts past that point. He swallowed once, then twice. “If you even like me at all, you won’t put me through that.”  
  
Gary swallowed too, looking away from Jim’s eyes. “Yeah, Jim. I got it. You can trust me.”  
  
Jim let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding. It quavered as it left his body, dark and terrible. He collapsed in on himself, falling against Gary and clutching at him. He kept his tears at bay only by the slimmest of margins. Gary started kissing his neck, and Jim pulled away again. “Please, not tonight,” he whispered against Gary’s chest. “I can’t, not tonight.” Not this the thoughts of Spock mixing in with the thoughts of Gary, the stress of the day making his limbs tremble.  
  
Gary cleared his throat a little, sitting back from Jim. For a split second, his entire visage was cross, but he covered it up. Jim’s anger blazed again, but he managed to set it aside after a moment’s struggle. He didn’t want to argue with Gary, didn’t want to aggravate the headache that was beginning to build in his skull and fill his entire body with a dull ache.  
  
As they sat there, side by side in a tense silence, Jim said, “After finals I’m going to Vulcan. My parents want me to spend time with Spock, to get to know him.” He stared at his hands the entire time he spoke.  
  
Gary opened and shut his mouth several times before he finally managed to say in a tight, cool voice, “I see. Listen, I’m going to take a walk, and think about all this. I’ll be back later, yeah?” Without looking at Jim, Gary stalked out, shoulders knotted with tension and fury.  
  
Jim felt ill as Gary left, and the tears he’d been repressing leaked out. He sniffled once, and then twice as he blinked rapidly and tried to swallow around the enormous lump in his throat. He wished for once that Gary could see past his own needs and wants in order to understand what Jim was going through. He pulled off his clothes and curled up on his bed in the dark, wishing that there was someone who truly cared for him without reservation to curl against him. He wanted to bask in heat and reassurance, to know without fail that he was wanted, he was needed.  
  
He wanted to be loved.  
  
He was lulled to sleep by ghost fingers rubbing small circles on his hipbone.  
  


~*~

Each day, when Spock had completed his studies and returned to his home in Shi’Kahr, the first thing he did was take his biological readings for the day. The Vulcan healers had declared that his Time was imminent, and sending the daily readings to his family Healer would allow them monitor his progression closely, which would allow them to ensure that he and his bondmate were fully prepared.

Today, however, Spock paused for no discernable reason, staring for a long moment at the scanner, strangely unwilling to step forward. Though he had been instructed as to the details of _pon farr_ as had all Vulcan children, just the thought of what he would suffer made his blood seem to drop several degrees, though Spock knew it to be impossible. To have his control so thoroughly ripped from him, especially after he’d endured such cruel taunts about his control from his classmates as a child. However, there was nothing to be done, nothing at all that he could do. He shook off the hesitation and took his readings and then forwarded the results to the hospital.

When he had finished that, he returned to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing dinner. He brought his PADD with him, for though his mother had strictly forbidden reading at the dinner table, he believed that she was uniquely suitable to resolve some of his questions about getting to know his bondmate. His parents had informed him that Jim would be coming to visit in a matter of weeks, and therefore it was only appropriate that Spock schedule a number of activities for the pair of them to do together, as reserved as Spock might be about the bond itself.

“Hello, Spock!” his mother greeted him cheerfully, and left her pan for a moment in order to kiss his cheek. It was their tacit compromise; his mother would resist any and all displays of affection in public, and in return, Spock would not try to resist the single kiss that she would bestow on him when she first saw him in the evenings, as well as any other affectionate touches that Amanda would give him around the house. Spock found the action illogically pleasing and enjoyable and even now automatically offered his cheek, though now that he’d gotten older he’d become more accustomed to controlling the flood of warmth that pooled in his solar plexus and he no longer smiled, as was proper Vulcan behavior. He suspected that his mother might know his opinion on the matter anyways, because she always smiled warmly afterwards, eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Greetings, Mother,” Spock said formally, inclining his head for a moment. He lingered close to her, drinking in the peace and love he felt in her presence. “Might I ask what you’re preparing for dinner?” he said by way of beginning a conversation.

His mother raised an eyebrow, half turning to stare at him critically. Something in Spock quailed at that, and he almost left the room to attempt to answer his questions on his own. A strange, prickly feeling that marked embarrassment began to bubble up a little in his stomach. “I’m making vegetable stir-fry,” his mother said after a moment of heavy deliberation. “Is that fine with you?”

Spock inclined his head again. “I find it to be an acceptable meal and will nicely complete the set of nutrients I need for the day.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “You can just say that you enjoy it, Spock. It’s less of a mouthful.”

“There is no reason for taking pleasure in one foodstuff over another, Mother. The most important part is that all the necessary nutrients are achieved for optimal health and function.” Spock’s mouth softened a little; this was a conversation he’d had with his mother many a time, and the familiarity of it was comforting, though he would never admit to it.

“Now Spock, don’t give me that,” his mother said with a beautiful laugh. “You know as well as I do that enjoying food is a biological necessity. Your body discovers what foods deliver what nutrients and when you need those nutrients, you crave those foods. Therefore wanting specific foods and enjoying them is simply natural.” She winked at Spock, a smile blossoming on her face.

Spock didn’t concede to her statement, but neither did he contest it, and his mother knew that was as good as a victory. “Alright, Spock, what are you really here for?” she asked, looking back down into the pan. She took a fork that was sitting nearby and stabbed a _fori_ and checked it for flavor. She made a little noise of discontent and then splashed a little more of the pungent soy sauce into the pan, mixing it thoroughly. This time, she stabbed a water chestnut and hummed, pleased. The smell coming from the pan made Spock salivate, for he had been unable to eat lunch due to an experiment. “Can you get me that dish?” she said, and Spock held the plate carefully as his mother scooped the stir-fry into the dish. “Put that on the table, and I’ll put the rice in a bowl. Come on, Spock, you didn’t come in here to debate the merits of liking food. Spill the beans.”

“What beans?” Spock asked. His mother gave him a look, and Spock let the corner of his eyes crinkle a little in the closest he would allow himself to a smile around his mother. “I had hoped to seek your advice on…James Kirk.” The name slipped out coolly, even for a Vulcan. Spock kept speaking, hoping that his mother would not comment on the unbecoming emotion that laced the name. “I do believe that your suggestion was an appropriate. Getting to know James Kirk before my Time-” here Spock’s ears began to flush green ever so slightly, the color also rising in his cheekbones. It mortified him, to have to discuss this with his mother, but she was truly his only option. “-is the best course of action. However, I am unsure if the activities that I have decided upon are suitable.”

Spock, who had been setting the table with cutlery and plates, heard his mother make a choking noise, but when he turned to look at her, there was no sign that she’d made so much as a sound. “Have you compiled a list of activities?” his mother asked, and for some strange reason closed her eyes for a moment, mouth twitching when he handed her his PADD. Spock, who frequently found his mother’s behavior perplexing, wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction.

After a moment where she turned positively scarlet, and her shoulders shook twice with repressed tremors that Spock just knew had to be laughter, she focused on the list, pursing her lips. “Give me your stylus,” she said, sitting at her place at the table. Spock took his seat as well just as his father walked into the house. Spock had to resist the urge to snatch the PADD out of his mother’s hands and hide it away. He was irrationally embarrassed about the idea that he had compiled what essentially amounted to a list of date activities.

When Spock’s father had greeted them both cordially, he turned to his wife and said, face calm as was proper for a Vulcan, “You have told me many times, Amanda, that you will not allow me to do work at the table. And here I find you doing just that.”

“Oh stop it,” his mother retorted, teasing. Spock didn’t understand how his mother seemed to understand his father’s moods so well, when so many humans had complained that it was nearly impossible to communicate properly without extensive use of emotion. They found the Vulcan style of speaking incomprehensible and disliked their restraint. He could only hope that his bondmate, James Kirk, would have even a quarter of his mother’s kindness and almost instinctive understanding. “My dear husband, I was simply checking over some of Spock’s suggestions. Since James is going to be arriving in a week, I suggested that Spock compile a list of activities that would help him and James grow to understand each other before Spock’s Time.”

His father’s expression remained still even when Spock’s mother alluded to _pon farr_. Spock couldn’t help the way his face flushed ever so slightly. It was simply mortifying to have a discussion about a biological imperative that involved copious amounts of sex with one’s parents. “I see,” he said neutrally. “What sort of things did Spock suggest?” He peered at the PADD over Spock’s mother’s shoulder.

His parents then proceeded to have a conversation with nothing more than their facial expressions. Spock knew that they could communicate within their bond, of course, but nevertheless, Spock had always had the impression that their communication was simply limited to the looks they were exchanging. They’d always seemed to be unusually aware of each other, even for a fully bonded couple. Afterward the silent conversation, his mother crossed off several items on the list and added three more. “Also leave some time for things that James might like to do, the touristy stuff around Shi‘Kahr. He’s going to be here for at least the first year of your marriage so that the Healers can make sure that the bond is properly established, so seeing some of the local sights to get acclimated to the city might be fun. It’ll give you the chance to look at the city in a new way as well. Here.”

Spock took the PADD from his mother. She’d crossed off Spock’s plans to study the natural mineral deposits found near the outskirts of the city as well as his plans to take James to the water purification plant and placed a question mark next to the museums that Spock had listed, with a note that said ‘depends on interest’ and added in ‘Touristy spots like the public gardens’, ‘watch a film together’, and ‘go out for a private dinner’. Spock dimly remembered, that at the very least, the second two suggestions were typical Terran dates, which would hopefully put his intended at ease. They were clever ideas, and Spock didn’t know why he hadn’t considered them earlier. “Thank you, Mother. These ideas will be an excellent addition to the list.”

“Of course, dear. Just remember to clear each idea with him before you actually take him there until you get a better sense of his likes and dislikes. Now turn that off so we can eat.” Spock nodded and shut off his PADD, setting it aside, complying with his mother’s rules. Both his parents nodded at him and they sat down to their meal. Somehow, however, Spock had lost some of his earlier hunger. Though he knew the necessity of having his bondmate present, especially considering the fact that _plak tow_ would be upon him in a matter of months, something about him was greatly unsettled by the entire affair.

Perhaps it was his fault. He hadn’t actively either helped or hindered the bond between him and James. Instead, he’d virtually ignored it for the majority of his life beyond putting up a block that would prevent James from rooting around in Spock‘s mind at will. It was irrational, because leaving the bond open would have given him the opportunity to gain a sense of what kind of person James Kirk was. However, that would have left Spock equally open to James, and that was something that Spock would never have been able to agree to. He’d spent so much time being bullied by children and even adults throughout his life for being one of the rare half-Vulcans that he had been wary of letting a stranger into his mind at will, assuming Jim knew how to access the bond in the first place. Furthermore, Spock had never been able to consider this bond to a man he’d only met once in his entire life as truly binding. He’d sate his _plak tow_ with James Kirk’s body, and they would go their separate ways, lead their separate lives, coming together only once every seven years to accommodate Spock’s biological needs. It was simply best that way.

It wouldn’t be the joyful or loving relationship of his parents, and there was something in Spock that felt indescribably cold when he thought of having a marriage where both parties viewed it as an inescapable trap. Perhaps if they got to know each other a little better, it wouldn’t be completely terrible, but Spock had to admit- to himself, even if to no one else- that he wasn’t incredibly confident about that.

Like James, he’d received a yearly update as to how his bondmate was doing. From his grades, at least, he was an intelligent individual, on par with Spock himself, which was welcome. In addition, James had joined Starfleet; Spock had considered attending himself before being accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy. Therefore, it was not unreasonable to assume that they had the same interest in the stars and being able to see all the worlds out there. There was one aspect about their lack of relationship which he found surprising, of course. He’d rather expected that James, as a Human, would have made an effort to connect with Spock on an emotional level before this point, since Humans seemed to find it critical when they entered into relationships. He wondered why James hadn’t, and something went cold in him.

“Spock, is there something wrong?” his mother asked, interrupting his train of thought.

“No, Mother,” Spock assured her, and put all thoughts of the bond out of his head and applied himself to his meal.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s incredible what the human mind can adjust to. As Jim waited for the people in front of him to get off the craft, he didn’t even think about the weirdness of the fact that he would be stepping off the ship and meeting his bondmate, meeting Spock. He was too busy making sure that he had all of his luggage, letting his parents, Gary, and his various friends know that he’d arrived safely on Vulcan (finally, thank God, because it seemed like he‘d been traveling for weeks, not several days), and looking through some courses that would be offered at the Vulcan Science Academy. Since the Vulcan spring fell while Earth was still in summer, it had been tacitly assumed that he would be enrolling for at least one course while they waited for Spock‘s pon farr, and Jim wasn‘t exactly about to correct their misconception as to what he would be doing about Spock‘s Time, letting them draw their own conclusions about his willingness to take a class. At the very least, it would keep him out of Spock’s presence for a couple hours each day, which was reason enough.  
  
As he made his way down the narrow aisle between the seats, he wondered if he‘d be met by Spock in the terminal. He’d only gotten the confirmation that he’d be picked up at the gate; he hadn’t been told who would be there waiting for him. Jim was of mixed feelings about the entire matter. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to get the first meeting with Spock over and done with or if he wanted to postpone it for as long as possible.  
  
He shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the tall, thin Vulcan in front of him to finally move forward so Jim could make his way down the aisle, off the craft and into the terminal proper. Of course, Jim should have expected that there was not a single Vulcan in a rush, and therefore it took a surprisingly long time for Jim to actually get off.  
  
Though most if his stuff had already been sent to Spock’s residence, Jim still had to pick up a suitcase that he’d checked that was filled with his prized possessions that he hadn’t been able to do without and some basic toiletries that he would need. As Jim stepped through the gate, he peered around the room, trying to match his dim memory of the seven year old Spock with what he might look like now. He figured that worst come to worst, however, they’d be able to spot him easily enough. After all, he was the only person with both rounded ears and bronze hair stepping of the shuttle; his race should be easy enough to determine. However, as the terminal slowly cleared and no one had come forward to alert Jim as to what was expected, Jim felt a small needle of trepidation grow in his stomach. He shook it off and shouldered his carry-on, figuring that it would be best to make it to where the luggage was being unloaded.  
  
“James Tiberius Kirk, I presume?”  
  
Jim stopped short, heart in his throat as he turned.  
  
Oh.  
  
My.  
  
God.  
  
Jim mentally tried to match up his image of the Spock- for who else could it be?- standing in front of him with the image of the childhood form. Child Spock had been almost sickly pale, with large eyes and a round face. Child Spock had been painfully shy and frail. Child Spock had been a single pure note in his mind when they’d performed the mind meld.  
  
This was not Child Spock.  
  
Well, that wasn’t completely true. Now that Jim took a closer look at the man’s face, Jim could see the faint echo of the boy he’d meet all those years ago on Vulcan. Still, Spock had grown up.  
  
And he’d grown up good.  
  
Spock had lost the sickly tone to his skin, and it was now a clean, unmarred ivory that Jim had the immediate urge to nibble and kiss just to see if it was as soft and smooth as it looked. His dark eyes, which had seemed too large on his face as a kid now brought a touch of softness and elegance to his strong jaw and cheekbones. They were framed by sooty lashes that Jim was irrationally jealous of. He’d also filled out, from what Jim could tell from the robes the half-Vulcan was wearing, and he was standing straighter, calm and collected. The haircut was terrible, naturally, but his hair was dark and had a soft sheen. Jim’s eyes flicked from Spock’s toes to his face, drinking in the sheer hotness that Spock exuded. Almost without his control, Jim let a small lascivious smile creep across his face.  
  
“Spock, right?” he said. Perhaps the next couple of months wouldn‘t be completely horrible, if this was the guy that he was going to be sitting across from at the dinner table. Jim wasn‘t happy about being on Vulcan, but he wasn‘t dead, and nothing short of being buried six feet under would keep him from admiring the fine figure that Spock cut. “Yeah, I’m James Kirk. Call me Jim.” He stepped forward, intending to shake Spock’s hand, when he tripped over his own feet, his carry-on spilling his books and PADD and a few holos.  
  
“Shit,” Jim cursed under his breath, scrambling to pick everything up and checking each item carefully for any damage. Spock knelt as well, helping pick the items up, and Jim couldn’t help but notice that Spock had the most incredible hands, with long fingers and carefully tended nails. “Thanks, Spock.” Jim grinned at him.  
  
Spock looked at the old paper books he held in his hands, eyebrows raising. “The Little Prince in its original French. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Changes by Jim Butcher. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Dune by Frank Herbert,” he said aloud. He spotted still more books in Jim’s hands, which he was carefully putting away. “You enjoy paper books?” he said, and already it was more than he had hoped for in regards to his intended.  
  
Jim looked up absently, putting the books away in his bag. “Yeah, I love them,” Jim said, shouldering the bag once more. “I’ve only got my most prized books actually with me. The rest are at my house in Iowa. They’re mostly so old and so easily damaged that I wouldn’t want to move them any more than absolutely necessary.” Jim laughed a little, trying to quell his nervousness. It was so much easier to plot to undermine the bond and challenge when he wasn‘t actually confronted by the person he‘d be doing it to. Jim cleared his throat, hoping that Spock couldn’t tell what he was thinking from this distance. He knew that the bond would allow them to pass thoughts and emotions after pon farr, of course, but he wasn‘t sure as to the exact mechanics of Vulcan telepathy beyond that (as usual, he had the Vulcans to thank for that). “It was hard to figure out which ones I absolutely had to have with me. Anyways, I just have to pick up my suitcase and I’ll be ready to go.”  
  
“Very well,” Spock said stiffly, and he took a step back from Jim as if he suddenly couldn’t bear to be with him. Jim was suddenly reminded of all the things that he’d found irritating about his dim memories of Spock. “My mother is awaiting us in the hovercar and will take us to the house.”  
  
“Sure,” Jim said shortly, and he didn’t care if he sounded a touch belligerent. “Lemme just grab my stuff.”  
  
Spock followed silently, offering not a single word’s worth of conversation. Jim felt awkward at first, but the earlier belligerence grew, and Jim reminded himself that he hadn’t expected anything from the half-Vulcan. Sure, there had been a moment where he’d looked interested in the books he’d brought, but Spock hadn’t said a single word since then. Spock was attractive, almost painfully gorgeous to look at, but it was obvious that he was about as pleasant as a dead fish. Now that he thought about it, was it a little bit of sarcasm that he’d detected when Spock had read the titles? Perhaps not. He could simply be reading too much into it. Jim straightened his back, coding in his information at the luggage area and picking up his suitcase when it was dispensed. When Spock didn’t so much as offer to carry the suitcase, Jim’s mouth tightened for a moment and then figured that he’d been right all along. Spock was clearly too high and mighty for a mere Human, despite being half-Human himself.  
  
Strangely, Jim felt his shoulders sag at the thought.  
  
Spock, for his part, wasn’t sure how to begin. He knew how to run a PCR machine, knew how to build a computer from scratch, and was quickly becoming one of the leading scientists in the field of warp physics and astrophysics, but he had never been trained in the art of small talk. He struggled to find something appropriate to say about the books he’d seen, but words failed him. He’d been so ready to remain neutral at best, disparaging at worst when he’d seen James. It had been so obvious who his bondmate was; he was the only Human, and even if his ears hadn’t made it clear, the golden hair certainly had. Spock had taken the opportunity to study James for a moment before stepping forward. He’d watched as James looked around the terminal, and couldn’t help but admit privately that James was the most aesthetically pleasing individual he’d ever encountered. There was no one of his acquaintance that could match the man’s blue eyes, bright smile, the soft curve of his cheek. When James had bitten his full lips, clearly anxious about what he was supposed to do next, Spock had been forced to repress the desire to lick his own in turn. When James had turned to go, it was only then that Spock realized he’d been standing there, watching James’ movements for a full five minutes.  
  
And then James had tripped, spilling his bag and Spock had seen some of his old favorites, books that he, too, had as paperbacks. James had picked up his suitcase, and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he’d also read Ender’s Game when-  
  
“Spock! James!” His mother called out, leaning out of the hovercar and waving eagerly, and Spock silently mourned the lost chance. She hurried out of the car a second later, skirts swirling around her. “It’s so nice to meet, you, James!” She pulled him into a brief hug in greeting, then stepped back, eyes flickering from Jim to Spock. “I was starting to worry that I’d have to come in to track you both down, you were gone so long.” She smiled broadly at the pair of them, eyes sparkling despite the unbearably hot weather.  
  
“Hello, ma’am. And don’t call me James. It’s what my mother calls me when I’ve done something bad. Jim, please,” Jim said with an easy grin, returning Spock’s mother’s smile. He fanned a hand in front of his face, sweat already beginning to bead his hairline. “Is it always this hot?”  
  
She laughed at that, kissing his cheeks briefly and snatching his luggage from him before he could move. She placed it with surprising ease into the trunk; Jim was still getting adjusted to the heavier gravity of the planet, and as a result, he couldn’t find it in him to protest. “Yes, it is almost always this hot or hotter, which is far more often than a native Canadian like me is comfortable with. And it’s only going to get hotter, I’m afraid, since summer is on its way. This is only the beginnings of spring, after all. We might not have enough of a tilt to get real seasons, but there’s at least some change throughout the year. However, that still means it’s always some variant on boiling hot. Go on, get in the car; I’ve got a little air flowing, which will stave off the worst of the heat. And please, don’t stand on ceremony, Jim. Call me Amanda. After all, we‘re family now because of what you‘re doing for my son.”  
  
Jim’s stomach lurched unpleasantly at that. “Right,” he said with a weak laugh, getting into the backseat of the car. Spock slid in next to him, and Jim started at heat that he’d only absently noted earlier. He knew that biologically, Vulcans had a higher body temperature, but it was one thing to know it and another to feel it blazing beside him.  
  
Amanda chattered eagerly as they made the trip back to their household in Shi’Kahr. Jim mostly answered the questions on autopilot. Then again, they were simple questions such as his favorite food, how his parents were doing, how he enjoyed life at Starfleet, what he wished to do. It took very little thought to answer them. Instead, Jim spent most of his time glancing at Spock from under his lashes. Spock seemed, strangely enough, genuinely interested in what Jim had to say, and a pleased little thrill raced down Jim’s spine. So focused was he on Spock that he completely missed the way Amanda hid a smile from both her son and his future bondmate, glad that they were at least acknowledging that the other existed, even if they still seemed to be wary of one another.  
  
Jim couldn’t restrain a soft whistle when Amanda finally parked the hovercraft. It was a large, open home with a multitude of windows and an air of welcome that didn’t dissipate when Jim was ushered inside by Amanda, Spock having been given strict instructions to place Jim’s things in the bedroom with the rest of the stuff he’d had shipped here earlier while Amanda settled Jim in. As he was led through the house, Jim found himself gaping at the subtle splendor. There was art everywhere, with comfortable chairs in every room, Amanda’s mark having been made in every corner of the house. Jim followed Amanda to a fully furnished kitchen, where he was told to sit at the table and given an enormous glass of lemonade.  
  
“Though Spock wouldn’t say as much, it’s his favorite,” Amanda said with a wink, setting out a second glass at the setting next to Jim. “Now, I hope that you like spaghetti, because I’ve been cooking a pot of sauce all afternoon.”  
  
“Spaghetti’s fine,” Jim hastened to assure her, then sipped at his lemonade. It was perfect, neither too tart nor too sweet, and it hadn’t been diluted by too much water. He said as much to Amanda.  
  
“Oh, it’s an old secret. If you promise not to pass it along, I’ll tell you what it is.”  
  
“I promise,” Jim swore, already warming up to Amanda. She was the kind of woman who was everyone’s mother, everyone’s friend, and she was so sweet and earnest that Jim couldn’t help but like her instantly.  
  
“Do you swear?”  
  
“I swear.”  
  
“Lemon zest. If you use the zest, you get all the natural oils, which is where the real lemon flavor hangs out. The trick is not to allow the pith to get into the lemonade, however, because it becomes bitter, and then no one will want it.” Amanda checked the pot she’d put on to boil and dumped in a good handful of salt to season the water. “I hope you don’t mind meatless marinara sauce, by the way.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Jim said. “I knew coming here that Vulcans don’t eat meat, so…” Jim trailed off meaningfully and took a long sip of his lemonade. The house was cool, but not so cool that a drink went amiss.  
  
Amanda nodded, a little ruefully. “It’s not too bad most of the time, but sometimes you just get the urge for a piece of filet mignon wrapped in bacon, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Come to me, if you’re ever suffering. We can commiserate together, and if we’re lucky, I might have something that we can share.” Without looking up from what she was doing, she called, “Spock, stop lurking and come in. The lemonade on the table is yours. Your father should be home in about twenty minutes, just as dinner is ready.” She dumped a box of pasta into the pot of boiling water, and checked her sauce again.  
  
Jim started, then turned. Sure enough, Spock was standing in the doorway, looking at his mother and Jim with an unreadable expression. Without a word, Spock sat down next to Jim, and immediately began drinking the lemonade. Jim was surprised to see that Spock’s expression softened as he sipped the beverage. Then the second part of Amanda’s comment caught up with him, and Jim blanched. Amanda was Human. Therefore, Amanda was easy to understand, easy to read, or at least comparatively so. She was someone that he could relate to. However, if he found Spock a challenge, Jim wasn’t sure he’d ever understand Spock’s father. Jim tried not to think too much about it, since he would be meeting him soon no matter what; there was no sense in working himself up about it.  
  
As in the car, Amanda smoothed the way between the half-Vulcan and Human, adding in her own two cents whenever the conversation grew too stilted.  
  
She ended up putting in her two cents every other sentence, it seemed.  
  
Everyone was relieved when Spock’s father entered the house, even Jim. He would give anything to be done with the awkward let’s-get-to-know-each-other dance they had been doing. Jim could hear it as Spock’s father removed his shoes and put away his other belongings, a quiet whisper of sound that nonetheless traveled within the large and airy home. A frightened tension began to build in Jim’s chest as he eyed the doorway warily, waiting for S’chn T’gai Sarek to appear.  
  
When he finally did, Jim’s eyes widened a touch at the imposing figure Sarek cut in his formal robes, face impassive, implacable, beginning to be lined with age. There was a sense of importance to him, of dignity that made Jim hyper aware of every move Spock’s father made. Jim watched, swallowing heavily as Vulcan’s Ambassador to Earth tolerated Amanda’s kiss, greeted his son cordially and then turned his full attention to Jim. Jim immediately wished that he had done no such thing, as the man’s heavy stare made Jim want to confess everything he was thinking about kal’i’fee just so that the man would stop looking at him.  
  
“I am Ambassador Sarek,” he said finally, guardedly. “And you are James Tiberius Kirk.”  
  
“Um,” said Jim intelligently. “Yes. I am. Um, Jim is fine. You know, if you want.” He wanted to say more, but he was pinned in place by that gaze.  
  
Ambassador Sarek didn’t blink as he continued to study Jim. “You may call me Sarek,” he said finally, but Jim had no idea whether he’d been judged wanting or not. Sarek was the only part of his name that Jim could produce, so it wasn’t like he was being invited to call Sarek something special, something that would indicate a softening to his son‘s bondmate. As he’d suspected, Sarek was the absolute master of the poker face; Jim had no idea what he was thinking- specifically, he had no idea what Sarek thought of him. Amanda, at least, approved, but as he glanced over and saw her intense stare, Jim realized that Amanda’s geniality, her kindness and laughter, were a weapon of their own. Very little was going to slip by them; they were intelligent, clever and wise. It was no wonder that they were known throughout the universe for being a pair that couldn‘t be fooled, couldn‘t be undermined, couldn‘t be threatened. It made Jim swallow nervously. He told himself that being permitted to call Amanda and Sarek by their first names was a good thing, but there was a tiny voice underneath that thought that told him to run now; when they found out what he was going to do to their son, Jim suspected that the police would never find his body.  
  
“Um, hello, Sarek,” Jim said, and then mentally smacked himself for sounding like an uncultured dolt. He raised his hands in the ta’al with ease, just as he‘d been taught to do at an early age. “Live long and prosper.”  
  
Something in Sarek’s gaze changed ever so slightly, but Jim couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not, since he could detect no softening of those stern features. “Peace and long life,” Sarek intoned back, deep voice vibrating in the room.  
  
Amanda chose the perfect moment to step between the two of them with dinner. “Sarek, dear, can you grab the dressing from the fridge?” she asked. Jim wasn’t fooled for a moment. Amanda had chosen her moment perfectly, clearly an expert at handling delicate situations and perfectly able to comprehend her bondmate’s every thought.  
  
Jim watched them dance around the kitchen for several moments, putting everything else in place for the meal. Perhaps dance wasn’t the correct word for it, but it was the only word that Jim thought was appropriate. They made their way around the kitchen with ease, avoiding each other by the narrowest of margins without concern. Sarek always handed Amanda what she needed before she had to ask, and Jim realized that they were putting on a show for him, in a way. They were showing him their absolute unity, demonstrating the fact that they were one person in ways that Jim couldn’t yet understand. As he looked closer, he could see that despite his Vulcan façade, Sarek loved Amanda with his entire soul, and it showed in the gentle touches when they exchanged dishes, the way his face softened when Amanda smiled at him. They were teaching by example, and what an example it was.  
  
Spock gazed at them too, and Jim saw he watched them with something very much like sadness and hunger in his eyes. It made him realize that Spock wanted that too, beneath his Vulcan exterior. There is not a single creature in the universe that can stand strong against an onslaught of pure love, Jim knew this well. As he watched Spock watch his parents, he felt oddly relieved. Jim couldn’t be that person for Spock. It was clearly better for them all if Jim ended it with challenge. Then Spock could find someone who actually understood what made him tick, what fascinated him. That person could bond to Spock and then both Spock and Jim would have their happily ever afters, even if neither of them was Prince Charming.  
  
Spock remained mostly silent during the dinner, content to listen to his parents and James- Jim, as he insisted on being called- converse. With every word that came out of Jim’s mouth, Spock found that he was more enamored with the young man. A large portion of the dinner conversation was centered on a spirited conversation about the implication of the Prime Directive, and to which extent it should be followed. Jim drew on an extensive knowledge of actual cases in which the Prime Directive had or had not been obeyed and their results. He even managed to draw on some of the early philosophers of the Prime Directive, like Henderson, T’Pala and Ood. Even his father seemed to be pleased with Jim’s intelligence and passion. It made Spock wonder what Jim’s mind was like, if the same incandescent energy shone there.  
  
For the first time in his life, Spock wanted to meld with someone.  
  
When Jim stood to put his dishes in the sink, Amanda shook her head before he could do more than rinse them. “Let me handle it,” she said. “Really, it’s not a problem. I’m sure you’re tired after your long trip, and I’m sure that at the very least, your parents would like to hear from you in person. A message sent to their PADD isn’t the same as actually seeing your face. Plus it will give you a chance to unpack, if you‘d like.”  
  
Jim glanced from Sarek to Amanda to Spock. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he agreed. “So, um, goodnight, I guess.”  
  
“Before you depart, I was interested in knowing if you desired to join me in going to the Vulcan Science Academy tomorrow morning at two. I have a brief experiment to attend to at five, but I will be able to show you the building and introduce you to some of my colleagues. Is this acceptable?” Spock said after a pointed look from his mother.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Jim agreed, shoving his hands in his pocket and trying not to sound too put out. “On that note, I guess I should tell you that I registered for that matter and antimatter course. I can‘t remember the name, I‘m afraid, but it‘s under Professor T‘Pira.”  
  
“Warp Core Engineering and Chemistry?” Spock asked after a few seconds of rooting through his memory.  
  
“Yeah, that one,” Jim agreed. “It starts next week. Or, erm, since you guys don’t really have weeks, in seven days. I’ll have classes five days a week from three to six, and then another five days of practical labs from seven to eleven, and then two days off until the cycle starts all over again. That‘s all Vulcan time, I‘m pretty sure.” Jim internally winced at the times. A Vulcan hour was about an hour and a half Earth time, and Jim couldn’t quite reconcile with the knowledge that he would be in a lab for the equivalent of about six hours straight. Jim shrugged mentally. At least the class would be interesting and would challenge him, unlike a good portion of the Academy classes.  
  
Amanda nodded absently. “We’ll make sure that you’ve got everything you need for that. It’ll probably be best if you end up going in each morning with Spock until you get the hang of things around here, since he usually heads about two. On lab days you can come back with him too. Sarek is usually at the Earth Embassy when he’s not on Earth itself, and I just putter around doing whatever interests me, but we’ll give you our comm numbers in case you need us. Sound good?”  
  
Jim was momentarily overwhelmed by the idea that he would be spending an half an hour each day traveling to and from the VSA with Spock. Hoping the shock didn’t show on his face, Jim tentatively agreed. “Alright, Jim, we can straighten out the rest of the details tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t want to overload you with things tonight.” Amanda finished, beginning to clear the table.  
  
“That’s fine,” Jim said, hovering in the doorway, desperate to escape. “I guess goodnight, then.”  
  
“Goodnight!” Amanda said cheerfully in return. Spock and Sarek also murmured their goodnights. “Oh, Jim. Your bedroom is the second one on the left, dear, and it’s got an attached bathroom. If you get hungry later, grab anything you want from the fridge- I know growing boys need to eat. If you need us, just give a shout. We’ll probably be up until about fifteen o‘clock, alright?” Amanda smiled at Jim. “That’s probably about eleven your time. The Vulcans set their time by the sun, so the sun rises begins zero o’clock and it goes through eighteen hours. It’s a little weird, but you’ll get used to it.”  
  
“It’s just another type of jet lag,” Jim said with a quick shrug. “It’s not too bad. And thanks.“ Jim then made his way out, feeling awkward as he left the family to their own devices. He made his way upstairs, taking the second door on the left as instructed. He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected when he walked into the room, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite this large or spacious, nor to have a window that overlooked the city with all of its subtle Vulcan bustle. There was a fresh breeze coming in through the open window. The boxes with his clothing, his personal items and so on had been carefully stacked against one wall. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to find a chocolate sitting on the bed with the words Everything is better with chocolate scrawled on the wrapping.  
  
He laughed a little and ate the bar, pleased with the rich texture and the way it absolutely melted on his tongue, though that may have been the fact that it was well on its way to being melted just from the temperature of Vulcan. When he’d licked the chocolate from his fingers, Jim considered tackling his boxes, but seeing his entire life stacked against one wall made something in his chest clench and turned the chocolate in his mouth to ash. He didn’t really belong here, after all. He was a guest at best, an imposition at worst. Sighing, he went over to the console, plastering on a smile when he called his parents. They’d hadn’t spoken for more than five or ten minutes when Jim claimed that he was tired and still wanted to do some unpacking. Thrilled that Jim seemed to be settling in, his parents were more than willing to hang up, wishing him good luck and a goodnight‘s sleep, as well as many promises to keep in contact.  
  
He stared at the blank console for several long minutes afterwards, tapping his fingers against the table that the console sat on. Then he dialed in Gary’s number and waited with baited breath as the vid established a connection, hoping it wasn‘t too early in San Francisco. After a few moments, Gary appeared on the screen, hair in disarray. There was a moment of silence. “Hey,” Gary said warmly enough, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“Hey,” Jim returned. He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Well, I’m here and I’m not dead, so I’m going to count the evening as a win.”  
  
Gary huffed a little laugh, but quickly sobered. “Do you really have to be there?” he asked, and there was some indefinable emotion in his voice that Jim didn‘t like the sound of. “I don’t like this. I’m not comfortable with this. He’s your fiancé, but I’m your boyfriend.” Gary rolled his eyes, relenting a little. “And I never thought that I’d have to say that before.”  
  
“I know, Gary, and I’m sorry.”  
  
Gary shook his head, not arguing over the matter for the first time in a month. Jim nearly cried in relief, because he had long since reached the end of his patience with Gary’s constant nagging and warnings not to get too close to Spock. As if Jim would be with Spock any more than he absolutely had to. “It’s not your fault. It’s not something that you could control. Besides, I told you I was in this for the long haul, didn’t I?” Jim was touched by the simple words, and couldn’t keep himself from reaching out and touching the image of Gary. That was the Gary he loved, deeply, deeply hidden under the arrogance and self-interest.  
  
“Thanks, Gary.”  
  
“Hey, my body has never looked this good,” Gary leered, flexing his muscles. “It’s worth it just for that.”  
  
“Jackass,” Jim said, laughing freely. “Alright, I’m going to let you go- I just wanted to check in on you. I’m still trying to adjust to the time change and the new crazy schedule for class and whatnot that I have to get ready for, so if you don’t hear from me for a while, give me a call and make sure that I haven’t accidentally started speaking in monotone.”  
  
“Alright, talk to you later,” Gary said, and hung up.  
  
Jim spent the next two hours quietly unpacking his things, putting clothing away and drawers and gently placing his paperback books on a shelf. The house slowly stilled and quieted as everyone settled in for the evening. Jim was glad to see that adjusting to Vulcan time wasn’t as bad as he feared. Though the Vulcan day was a few hours longer by Earth standards, it just meant that Jim had some extra time to sleep every day, which was never a bad thing in his opinion. The weirder part would be getting used to Vulcan ideas of time, and matching up the eighteen hour Vulcan day with his twenty four hour internal clock. Their months were different as well, and eventually Jim just shook his head. He’d take each day at a time. That was all he could do, in reality, until Spock’s pon farr surfaced and he could get the hell out of dodge. He supposed he should count himself lucky that he’d arrived between terms at the VSA; since other species occasionally attended the VSA, Jim supposed that the Council had deemed it more in keeping with IDIC to have a structure similar to that of Starfleet. Since he’d been able to enroll in VSA, it would mean at least a couple of hours each day when he wouldn’t have to see Spock.  
  
Jim stretched then, letting his back pop before stripping out of his clothing, dumping it on the floor for now. It was yet another thing that he would have to ask Amanda about- what he should do with his dirty laundry. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with anyone else washing his clothing, especially his undergarments, which should really be treated as a biological hazard in any case.  
  
Jim took one last look out the window, enjoying the cool breeze that night had brought on. It dried the worst of the sticky sweat that had popped up from the dry heat and felt glorious against Jim’s skin. He closed his eyes, swaying in the night. Something fresh wafted towards him, something that smelled faintly flowery but not overpowering. He looked down and realized that there was a flowerbed on the ground beneath him. It was clearly well-tended, cordoned off by a wall to protect it from the worst of the city grime- well, what grime there was in a Vulcan city- and the harsh desert winds. Jim suspected that it was Amanda’s pet project, since he couldn’t imagine Sarek or Spock up to their elbows in dirt, tending to plant life.  
  
Jim shook his head. He really should get to bed, because he’d be up soon enough. Setting his PADD alarm, Jim climbed under the light covers and closed his eyes, slipping into a restless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock couldn’t stop his eyebrows from rising the next morning when Jim came down the steps, hair still tousled and in jeans and a t-shirt. “Please tell me you’ve got at least a liter of coffee on hand,” Jim said as he collapsed into the chair at the far end of the table, resting his head in his hands. “I can’t function without coffee.”

Without pause, Amanda pulled a large ceramic cup from the cabinet and held it beneath the coffee machine. “I’m the same way,” Amanda said, setting the large mug in front of Jim on her way out of the kitchen. “Do you want cream? Sugar?”

“Both,” Jim said tiredly and lifted his head long enough to add a little of both before putting his head back in his arms.

Amanda put the sugar and cream away, shaking her head a little at Jim’s exhaustion. “I’m going to be headed out in about five minutes to attend to my garden, and I’ll be out there for the morning. When are you leaving, Spock? Jim?” Amanda paused in the doorway and turned back to them. “Your father’s already left for the day, by the way. He had an early meeting at the Embassy.”

“Very well. I intend to catch the public transportation to the VSA in twenty minutes, which will allow us to get to the VSA by two. James-”

“Jim, dammit,” the Human said, voice still muffled by his arms. “You call me James again and I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Spock looked momentarily disconcerted from the interruption and correction, but managed to continue on. “Jim, will you be ready to accompany at that time?” Spock asked. From the human’s rumpled appearance, he wasn’t entirely sure that would be possible. Jim didn’t stir as Spock spoke, and Spock went from dubious to downright incredulous.

“Yeah, let me down my coffee, brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair, and I’m all yours, Spock.” Jim rested his hands on his arms a little longer and then sat up, looking around the kitchen blearily. “Good. Coffee. Coffee is good.” Jim stared at the mug for a moment, and then tipped the mug back, draining it dry. Spock was struck by the urge to lick Jim’s Adams apple. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Just dump it in the sink, Jim,” Amanda said as she pulled a hat over her hair, which had been expertly braided and then tucked into a bun. Sunscreen had also been rigorously applied to every inch of her exposed skin, as evidenced by the minute traces of white cream around one ear and the streaks of it on a partially exposed arm. “I’ll get to it later. Alright, I’m sure I’ll see you boys this evening.” With a final meaningful glance at Spock and the cryptic words, “Iron out your plans,” Amanda headed out.

“Iron out what plans?” Jim grumped as he rinsed out the coffee mug and placed it in the sink.

“My mother was simply reminding me that I have made plans over the coming weeks in order that we might come to better understand one another. Is this acceptable?” Spock asked, turning his complete attention to Jim.

You knew this was coming, Jim reminded himself, staring blankly down at the mug in his hands. To buy himself some time, he continued to rinse it out for an extra second or two. It’s the obvious plan of action, if we’re going to be having sex in a couple of months. No one wants to have sex with a complete stranger if you have the option to get to know them at least a little better, especially in a situation like this. And if you’re not planning on telling them about the fact that you’re planning on challenging, then buck up and grow a pair and agree. “What did you have in mind?”

If Spock hadn’t been a Vulcan, Jim would have said that he brightened up. “I have a list of things that you may find fascinating for our dates. By dating one another, we will be better able to understand each other and discover our commonalities and thus our compatibility.” Jim’s mouth twitched at the word ‘dates’ since Jim could practically see the air quotes around the word. Jim could tell the half-Vulcan looked upon dating as an experiment and mentally shook his head. Spock brought something up on his PADD, and handing the device over to Jim. “Is there anything on that list that you believe would be suitable to start with?”

“You made a list?” Jim said with a note of disbelief coloring his voice, and then shook his head. “You’re Vulcan. What am I saying? Of course you did. Alright, I’ll look over the list and meet you down here in twenty so we can head over to the VSA, alright?”

Spock nodded, a strange note of worry crawling into his stomach as Jim left the room. He tried to keep in mind that his mother had looked the list over and had deemed all the activities on the list something that a Human would enjoy, but Spock was beginning to have second thoughts, something he found to be exceedingly disconcerting as he rarely had them. He gathered up the things he would need, including the lunches that his mother had made for both him and Jim as well as his wallet, which held photo identification and his credit chip, amongst other things. When he had gathered everything and placed it in its proper location in his bag, he slung the bag over his shoulder.

Jim tramped down the steps right on cue, looking ready for the day in a pair of dark jeans, a button down short-sleeved shirt and a blazer slung over one arm. He looked up as he came around the corner back into the kitchen. “I assume that the VSA has air conditioning to ensure that none of the chemicals react if it gets too hot?” Spock nodded. “Good, then having a jacket probably isn’t a bad plan and I won’t roast to death in jeans, though the ride too and from the VSA will be hot.”

Jim then took a second look what Spock was wearing and in the clear light present in the kitchen Jim came to the conclusion yet again that it was completely unfair for a man with a bowl cut to be that gorgeous. It was equally unfair that he was so completely unaware of said beauty. The half-Vulcan was wearing a long sleeved turtleneck sweater of dark grey and a set of black slacks and unadorned black shoes that Jim wasn’t entirely sure weren’t slippers. Like Jim, slung over one arm was a jacket, complete with patched elbows. Heat crawled up Jim’s spine. Around the dryness in his throat, Jim managed to say, “Uh, how cold is it going to be, exactly?”

Spock stood, and as he lead the way out of the house, presumably towards the train or bus or whatever it was station that would take them to the VSA while Jim followed in his heels, forced to lengthen his stride to keep up with Spock‘s long strides. “Well, the Vulcan body temperature is on average ten degrees centigrade higher than the Human body; as in other aspects, I favor my father’s biology. As a result, in the VSA, which is kept a steady twenty four degrees centigrade, will feel considerably cooler to me in comparison to you. Furthermore, the lab I will be working in today also does work in matter/antimatter collisions, and therefore the room must be kept colder than the rest of the building to prevent combustion. It is for this reason that in addition to wearing long sleeves and pants, I am bringing a jacket with me.”

“So you’re not hot in this weather?” Jim asked. Though the sun had risen, true heat had not yet spread throughout the city, and Jim was comfortable enough in his jeans, though he knew that when they left later today he would be burning up. “I mean, I’ve always known that Vulcans were hotter, but it’s one thing to hear it, and another to see a Vulcan wearing a thick sweater when it’s already thirty five degrees out and only going to get hotter.”

Spock inclined his head. “Indeed. Have you considered some of the activities that I listed? And might I have my PADD back? I will require the information stored on it at a later time.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jim pulled a PADD out of his bag, then said, “Wait a minute, that’s mine.” He tucked the PADD back in. “There’s my comm, there’s my wallet…ah ha!” Victorious, Jim pulled out Spock’s PADD and handed it back to him. “Sorry about that. I guess that in the interest of getting to know each other, I should say this right off the bat. Organization is not my middle name.”

“No,” Spock agreed evenly. “Your middle name is Tiberius. Here we are. The shuttle should come by in five minutes. There will be two stops before the VSA, and it should take approximately twenty minutes, depending on how much traffic is in the city.”

Jim, however, laughed when he heard Spock‘s calm agreement. “No, I know that my middle name is Tiberius. Saying that something is not one’s middle name is a Human saying to show that they don’t have a certain quality. I am not organized, never have been, probably never will be. I mean, I can usually keep track of the big stuff, like class projects or homework assignments or when my simulations are scheduled, but if you want me to call you back, that isn’t going to happen, because it’ll slip my mind within five minutes. And I‘m terrible at keeping my room organized. It drove my mom nuts, because she‘s pretty much a neat freak.”

“May I assume that by ‘neat freak’ you refer to an individual who has above average expectations for a Human when it comes to cleanliness and organization?” Spock asked curiously. “I find that your Human idioms are fascinating.”

“I‘m glad you think so,” Jim said, face crinkling in a smile. “Because I tend to use an awful lot of them, and if you don’t catch on quick, you will quickly become lost.”

“Then it is fortuitous that I am a very fast learner. I suppose that I should then inform you at this point that I am a highly organized individual. I am careful to schedule all my meetings and any individual that I must contact. In addition, I am fastidious when it comes to the cleanliness of my room and surroundings.” Spock paused for a moment, then said, “Now that you have examined my list, do you desire to do one activity over another for our date?”

He didn’t think that he’d ever get used to Spock saying the word ‘date’. Jim took a seat at once of the benches by the side of the road, crossing his legs out in front of him. The heat was already beginning to press down, but Jim considered Spock’s question carefully. It was impossible for a person to speak to another and not learn something about them. The trick to not getting inadvertently attached, or so Jim thought, was to pick a suitably neutral activity. “Why don’t we do a movie?” Jim suggested. “We can do a double feature or something, where we each pick our favorite films and watch them together. You can learn a lot about someone from their likes and dislikes when it comes to movies,” Jim said, though he didn’t particularly believe it himself. However, a movie wouldn’t require them to actually converse, which was good enough for Jim for now. Anything to put off the dinner date that had nearly given Jim a heart attack that morning.

“I believe that will be acceptable. Perhaps tonight? We can select our movies this evening and watch the films after dinner,” Spock answered. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jim calling it ‘liking’ movies, however. Spock preferred to think of watching film as a study in a director and writer and actor’s perspective on life.

With their date for that night settled, they lapsed into silence. Jim wasn‘t sure how to break the silence when Spock turned to him. “I do feel like I should make it clear at this point that I do not expect you to completely change your life, Jim,” Spock said suddenly. “While you will sate my body’s need during my Time, afterwards I will not force you to stay here. You have duties to Starfleet, and I have my own duties here. We will have to meet one every seven years, but otherwise we may live our lives as we choose.”

Jim blinked, taken aback by the icy tone of Spock‘s voice. “But I thought…from the way your parents speak…” Jim said eyes narrowed. From everything he’d heard, Vulcan bonds were exclusive, were even more binding than marriage because the two people in the bond knew each other’s minds in a way few other races did. “I thought that you expected me…”

Spock shook his head once, and the motion was full of command, eyes dark as he caught Jim’s gaze and held it. “My mother is an exception amongst the Human race in that she was willing to give up what she had been involved in on Earth, and even then she visits there regularly as a part of her work. Her parents still live there. All other Human-Vulcan bonds have involved Humans that lived here on Vulcan for the majority of their life. Of course, Vulcan-Vulcan bonds do not exactly apply. We are the first pair to grow up completely on different worlds; even my mother spent some time here before being bound to my father. As such, I could not reasonably expect you to drop you entire life and live out your days on Vulcan. It is illogical. I had always held the belief that after we bonded you would return to Starfleet and I to the Academy, as I mentioned previously.”

“Yeah,” Jim said after a long moment of silence, and immediately wished that he’d managed to say something more intelligent. “Um, yeah, I can see where you’re coming from. That seems very…logical.”

“I am glad that you agree,” Spock finished, turning back towards the street. “I realize that this is not the optimal situation for either of us, but I feel that after we complete the bond there is no reason not to go our separate ways, at least temporarily. Did you believe that we should plan differently for our future?”

“Well, I mostly figured that we’d cross that bridge when we came to it, to be perfectly honest. I was just hoping to get through your Time in one piece, and then after that we’d just see how the chips fell,” Jim admitted. “I didn’t exactly have a plan in place. I think that your plan is considerably better than my fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants philosophy.”

“Fly by the seat of your pants?” Spock said delicately, and Jim’s brain momentarily shut down at the colloquial phrase coming out of Spock’s mouth.

“Yeah, it basically means to improvise.”

“I see.”

From there, they lapsed into silence once more. The shuttle came up not even a minute later, but Jim barely noticed it, he was so lost in thought. Beyond having Gary win the challenge, Spock’s suggestion was probably the next best thing. It would allow Jim to live whatever kind of life he chose, even become a starship captain. Jim tried to be subtle when he let out his sigh of relief, tried not to be obvious that he was happy with the turn of events, even though Spock had been the one to suggest the solution in the first place. To distract himself from the silence, he looked around the shuttle awkwardly. There were some single Vulcans who were reading things on their PADD or listening to something, while others in groups spoke quietly and serenely to one another. It was completely different from the public transportation on Earth, where the vehicles were generally loud, smelly and disgusting- often all three.

Spock seemed content to sit in silence, but Jim shifted awkwardly back and forth in the seat, unable to keep from fidgeting. “So,” he began, and the word felt obnoxiously loud compared to the murmur that came from the other Vulcans. He lowered his voice as he continued, “You have an experiment at five. What hypothesis are you attempting to prove?” He tried to put on an appropriately interested face, though he really couldn’t care less.

Spock described his research in warp physics and how he was using his time today in the matter and antimatter lab to begin the preliminary stages of his long term experiment on streamlining power absorption in warp cores. Jim was drawn in despite himself and asked several intelligent questions, quickly revealing that he had a grasp of warp physics that certainly equaled Spock’s own knowledge; in fact, he brought forward several points that Spock had not previously considered. As he did so, Jim became more emphatic, using his hands to illustrate the points he was trying to make. He had quickly drawn all attention in the shuttle, though Jim was unaware of it. It was with a low hum of pride that Spock watched covertly as several Vulcans raised eyebrows at particularly clever points in their conversation, and a quiet swelling of warmth spread through Spock’s chest. It made him illogically disinterested in what would be happening in the lab today; instead, he desired to return to his home and choose a film that he found to accurately reflect how he saw the world. He wanted to be able to discuss the movie afterwards and see what Jim thought of it. Jim was the first person, Human or Vulcan, to be able to draw his attention away from his fascination with science.

They returned to their silence as the shuttle pulled up to the Vulcan Science Academy. Spock waited for Jim to disembark, coat over one arm and bag over one shoulder. The picture Spock painted was nothing so much as a professor headed off to give a lecture- all he needed was a set of glasses to complete the image.

That was an image that should not have been nearly as hot as Jim thought it was. Shaking his head to remove the thoughts (and also to pretend that he wasn’t staring at Spock’s ass) he caught up to the Vulcan. “So you’re going to play tour guide for the first part of the morning?” he said, adjusting his bag to the other shoulder. “What are you going to show me?”

“Well, I had intended to show you the entire building, including the library and the labs. Since you are also interested in warp physics, I have changed my mind and decided that while I will show you the majority of the building as I intended, a large portion of our time would be focused on the Engineering department, where I myself am completing the Vulcan equivalent of a PhD on Earth. Since it is also your area of study, perhaps you would like to meet some of my colleagues as well?” Spock asked, and he stopped suddenly, inexplicably anxious that his plan be greeted warmly by Jim.

“Yeah, that sounds great, actually,” Jim said, that bright grin yet again spreading across his face. Jim laughed, and the light sound drew the attention of the surrounding Vulcans also making their way to the VSA. Jim noticed the attention, and quieted, biting his lip. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little too rowdy for the Vulcan crowd.”

“Regardless, I find your passion to be fascinating.” The words escaped before Spock could think the better of them, and Jim’s brilliant blue eyes suddenly seemed to glow in the morning sunlight.

“Aw, Spock, that’s quite sweet of you,” Jim teased, trying not to take the words to heart. They had been too plainly spoken for them to be anything but honest, but Jim had told himself that he wasn’t going to get involved with Spock, sweet though he was. Therefore, he fluttered his lashes and affected a southern accent. “Well, darlin, I never heard no one say something so kind to little ol’ me.”

Jim hooked his arm through Spock’s, but the half-Vulcan jerked away. “E-excuse me,” Spock said, and there was the slightest tinge of green staining his cheeks. “Though this is not public knowledge beyond Vulcan, as my intended, I feel that I should warn you that such intimate touch, even through clothing, may allow my telepathy to pick up emotion. Skin on skin contact may allow the transference of thought. I hope that you do not find that…distasteful.”

Jim slowly lowered his arm. “Well, I’ve always known at least a little about Vulcan telepathy…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it was a little more expansive than I was told it was. You Vulcans tend to be a tight-lipped bunch, as a whole.” Jim wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the entire matter, but he knew that he wasn’t disgusted. It was just another aspect of Spock, and it seemed perfectly natural. Hell, he had a bond that was supposedly a direct conduit to Spock residing in his head. In a way, this was less weird, not more. “Thank you for telling me,” Jim said finally, indicating that they should continue up the steps to the VSA.

“It was merely common courtesy,” Spock said, and that adorable green flush had gotten a little darker. “I did not realize that you had not been fully informed as to the extent of my telepathy. I will work to rectify that at a later date. If you do not know the extent of your telepathy, it is likely that you haven‘t been alerted to other important information.”

“Um, sure,” Jim said, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He felt guilty about the mere idea that Spock might be going out of his way to share some of the Vulcan people’s secrets with someone who wasn’t planning on sticking around. Well, he told himself sternly, you knew this would be a risk. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to go around spreading whatever you find, so don’t worry about it. With that decided, he let Spock take him through the enormous doors that lead to the VSA. “We can worry about that later. We’ve got time,” Jim smiled through the lie, and mentally added, though probably not as much as you think we have, even if you only want us to meet once every seven years for some crazy sex-fest.

They spent the next few hours wandering around the Vulcan Science Academy, with Spock showing him all the little details that made the Vulcan Science Academy special. Jim had to admit that he was impressed. Seeing the facilities, it was obvious why the VSA was so highly regarded; everywhere there were people deep in discussion on topics that formed the leading edge of nanotechnology, animal physiology, computers, and so much more that it made Jim’s head spin. Spock didn’t speak to most of the people they encountered, however, beyond basic greeting and description of their work. There was something chilly between a majority of the VSA and Spock, for some reason. Jim filed it away under interesting, but not immediately critical, since he suspected that he might know the answer. So much for IDIC, it seemed. Even Jim got the occasional evil eye, though of course the Vulcans wouldn’t call it that either, and as far as Jim could tell, the look was for nothing more than for being Human.

Apparently being anything but Vulcan was all but a criminal offense these days.

Jim rolled his eyes and kept silent, however, because he wasn’t about to let them bother him. Even so, it was almost a relief to help Spock with his experiment, because at least that was something that he could understand without too much trouble, and no one looked at them askance simply for being what they were. After the experiment, Spock, his advisor Sokal and two of the students that were, as far as Jim could tell, also grad students all ate lunch together, spending the entire time discussing their so-called side experiment. Jim added what he could to the conversation, carefully watching both the student and teacher’s behavior around Spock and himself. Jim was pleased when Sokal considered each point that Jim made, either explaining without condescension why the idea wouldn’t work, or making a note on his PADD as something to explore further. It was clear why Spock enjoyed working with the Vulcan, though he probably wouldn’t phrase it that way; Sokal treated everyone around him as an equal, and his solemn manner and kindly chosen words demonstrated that he was genuinely paying attention.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Sokal was something of a rarity. Jim was well aware of the quiet tension that existed between Spock and his so-called colleagues. As a rule, they avoided Sokal and his compatriots, choosing to sit elsewhere in order to avoid interaction. It made Jim see red, furious that anyone was being treated so poorly, but he wasn’t sure what he should say or do about it, or if it was even his place to do so.

After lunch, Spock had to return to his research so he could continue his work on his thesis, and Sokal volunteered to show Jim the rest of the grounds, including the elegant courtyard that had been designed in the center of the building.

“I’ll be honest,” Jim said in low voice as they left the building. The sun was out in its full glory, blazing down on the deep red sands of Vulcan. Jim immediately shucked off his jacket and Sokal eyed the Human critically, and then led them to a shady area near the side of the building, which kept the worse of the heat off of Jim. Even so, sweat began to bead on Jim’s forehead. “I get the feeling that you wished to speak about something with me.”

“You would be correct. Spock would not tell you himself, but he is only one of four half-Vulcans alive currently, and only one of six ever created since the decision was made to use bonds as an alliance system between Earth and Vulcan,” Sokal said without preamble. “As a result, he is treated differently from full Vulcans. He is considered lesser as a result of his Human blood.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jim said, looking away from the simple kindness that the old man had used to speak the words. It was like a stab to his heart. “And isn’t it illogical for him to be treated differently? He’s clearly once of the most brilliant warp physicists out there.”

“I do not understand the root of such illogical behavior. As his teacher, I have come to see that his is a unique intelligence, and he sees solutions that are not typical. It is for this reason that I asked him to study with me. He is an adequate individual,” Sokal said, and there was something about his expression that told Jim not to press for more information. It was enough, however, that Spock had been complimented so heartily- for a Vulcan, at any rate- in the first place. It was more than obvious that Sokal believed that Spock was a worthy and admirable individual who should be honored by his peers. Instead, he had obviously been mistreated at best, ostracized at worst. “And you are his bondmate, and from what I have seen, one particularly well suited to Spock. As such, it is your place to understand such things. Since Spock would not discuss something he sees as a shortcoming, I must, as his teacher, do everything to rectify it myself until he comes to understand his failings and illogic.” Without another word, Sokal departed, leaving Jim to ponder his reaction. It was an abrupt departure, and Jim was left reeling for long moments before he managed to pull himself together and actually think about what Sokal had said.

It made a sick kind of sense, what Spock was going through, what he had been going through presumably for years. The Vulcan people were many things, but they did not adapt to change very well; to this day, despite their alliance with Humans, they maintained that their strict suppression of all emotion was the best course of action, instead of working with emotion but not allowing it to control them as Humans theoretically attempted to do (though even Jim would freely admit that things never quite worked out quite the way they were suppose to). A person like Spock, who was not only different racially, but experienced emotions differently- and, in all likelihood, had different needs- than the average Vulcan, would probably be considered a wild card, a freak, and therefore someone whose Human blood made him lesser. Tolerating a different race, a different way of thinking was fine in the abstract or short term, but it seemed that most of the VSA wasn’t living up to the often spouted belief of IDIC. And that was probably only scratching the surface. Jim rubbed at his face, already regretting allowing Sokal to bring the matter so explicitly to his attention. He wasn’t going to be sticking around, he didn’t want to spend his time worrying about Spock. He didn’t even want to think about Spock after these next couple of months.

Yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but soften at the knowledge that Sokal had gone out of his way to bring the matter to his attention. Sokal called it logical to compensate for his student’s failings, but even Jim could tell that Sokal was probably breaking the tenants of Surak’s teaching in order to get involved in something that technically wasn’t his business, especially so soon after being introduced to Jim. It had been so clear that he’d been genuinely worried about Spock, and so happy to be able to share his feelings and ideas about the matter with Jim (though again, Jim doubted he’d call it that) that Sokal was willing to go to whatever lengths he needed to in order to ensure that Spock lived a happy life. As Spock’s bondmate, Jim was the logical choice to provide such emotional support and give Spock more self-confidence (though again, Jim was positive that Sokal would phrase it in an appropriately logical manner).

Jim sighed heavily, leaning against the wall and sliding down it, putting his head in his hands. It’s not my problem, it’s not my problem, Jim tried to remind himself, but the very thought left him feeling cold and empty. I’m not going to be around, there’s nothing I can do, he argued, and then stopped, because he realized that he was talking to himself, and that was never a good thing. He tilted his head back, letting it thump against the wall as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. It made him feel ill, but Jim didn’t see what he was supposed to do except ignore it.

Feeling miserable and like the worst sort of being possible, Jim made his way back to Spock’s lab, getting lost once or twice along the way. He didn’t care, just kept his head down and tried not to draw attention to himself. He wished that he could outrun his thoughts, but he didn’t dare to go sprinting in the high heat and gravity of Vulcan. Instead, he lurked around the Engineering department for a good twenty minutes before he mustered the courage to go inside.

“Spock, didja miss me?” Jim crowed, coming to sit on the edge of Spock’s workbench, masking all of his earlier doubts and issues under a veneer of good cheer.

The half-Vulcan paused in his work, clearly unsure as to what he was supposed to say. Saying no might offend Jim’s Human sensibilities, while agreeing may indicate emotional attachment. Jim took pity on him and with a small smile said, “Is there anything I can help you with for the next couple of hours until we head back to your house? I‘m at loose ends here.”

Spock looked up, something about his face projecting surprise and a shy happiness without actually moving a muscle, which was how Jim ended up running around the lab all day, bringing this and that to the lab bench as he attempted to help Spock on his work to find ways to allow matter and antimatter to be combined even when they were cold. Jim didn’t complain, since the project made him completely forget Sokal’s earlier comments, allowing Jim blessed relief. Jim was more than ready to be done by the end of the day, however, unused to working for so long in such an intense atmosphere, though Spock looked as fresh as he had that morning.

With the exception of the twenty or so minutes that Jim had spent with Sokal and the time he‘d spent running around the VSA deep in thought over what Sokal had said, Jim couldn’t help but look on the day as a success. He’d managed to keep himself occupied all day without going insane.

And then came the time to watch the movies.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim was surprised when it turned out that Spock had had a majority of his exposure to movies as a result of the fact that Amanda was so fond of them. Since that was the case, they had a viewing screen set up in one of the larger rooms on the main floor and some comfortable couches and chairs that could be used for seating while the movie played, which would be perfect, since they didn‘t even have to sit on the same couch as a result. After extensive debate, Jim had decided on one of the oldest and greatest Pixar films, since Pixar-Disney was one of the more famous film groups throughout the galaxy; surely even Spock would have been exposed to their work, if Amanda enjoyed films as much as Spock claimed she did. Jim, after all, didn’t know a single child that hadn’t watched at least one of their films.

Jim had been scanning his memory for appropriate films all afternoon. He flatly refused to pick a romantic comedy, or anything that even hinted at romance, which surprisingly keep him from choosing most of his favorite action flicks. It seemed that the hero or heroine’s life couldn’t be complete without them ending out with the girl, guy, or alien-of-non-gender-binary-culture. Most of the good comedies were the same way, and besides, Jim figured that a large majority of the humor would have been lost on Spock anyways. He didn’t want anything too emotional for the same reason, and also because whatever portions he did understand would send the wrong message to Spock about Jim’s own emotional investment.

Which pretty much narrowed it down to kids films, for the most part. Sure, Jim had seen all the old Disney classics- until he was seven, he’d had a Winnie-the-Pooh that he’d refused to go anywhere without- but he wasn’t sure how he felt about making Spock sit down and watching a kids movie until he thought he’d hit upon the perfect balance: the old Pixar film Finding Nemo. Sure, his pride might take a bit of a blow from choosing a kid’s film, but if he was going to be perfectly honest, he’d sacrifice every drop of his pride if it meant not sending the wrong message to Spock and making things even more unnecessarily complicated.

It was perfect. Finding Nemo was about family, so that meant no awkward romantic trysts or anything like that. It had a happy ending and nothing too emotional took place during the film itself, so Spock would probably be able to grasp most of the intricacies of the emotional status of the characters; it was all well and good to have a Human mother, but without prolonged exposure to the kind of craziness that only Humans could produce, Spock simply wouldn’t have the practical experience to keep up with the nuances of most performances. In addition, it had a good mix of adventure and comedy as well, so it seemed overall like the perfect film to choose- it would hopefully keep Spock’s interest while simultaneously not making things awkward.

Or so Jim had hoped.

What he had not considered, however, when he’d chosen his film seemed obvious in retrospect. Finding Nemo was many things, but the one thing it was not was logical.

Christ on a cracker.

Jim was ready to kill Spock by the end of the film. His first warning should have been in the opening scenes when Spock had said, “I was under the impression that Humans had not done gene splicing experiments on fish to give them Human characteristics until 2034.”

Jim had paused the film, turning to Spock. “Yeah, you’re right. However, the writers are using personification to give this fish Human concerns and qualities so that they might better be able to understand and sympathize with the situation these characters are going through. They‘re not actually talking fish. This film was done in 2003.”

“I suspected that was the case, but I wished to have my hypothesis confirmed.”

Jim had rolled his eyes, but played the movie again. He couldn’t totally blame Spock for that. In the recent years, the film industries tended to stay away from telling stories that only a single planet would understand. As a result, the movies had become a cross cultural phenomenon, at least with the bigger companies. Some of the smaller ones focused on the local myths of various planets and so on, but the idea of something so Earth-centric as talking fish in the ocean had pretty much become a thing of the past.

Jim had thought the matter over and done with. However, by the time the first twenty minutes of the film had passed, Jim had been forced to answer extensive questions about whether clown fish actually cared for their young, if a damage fish egg would truly stunt the physical growth of the individual without affecting their mind, the structure of the school that Nemo was supposed to be attending and the legality of picking up fish from a presumably protected coral reef. Jim answered the questions as best he could, and attempted not to become overly frustrated with Spock’s inquisitive mind despite the fact that Jim could happily drop him off a cliff at the moment.

“How about this,” Jim said finally when Spock opened his mouth yet again to ask a question, “Hold all questions until the end, and then we can discuss it all. Cool?”

“Very well,” Spock said, and took out his PADD.

Jim stared at him. He cannot possibly be planning to take notes. “You cannot possibly be planning to take notes.”

Spock looked over at him, the barest touch of scorn on his face. “If I do not take notes, how can I ensure that all of my questions can be answered?” he asked. “It is the most logical course of action.”

Jim closed his eyes for a moment, and Amanda went up leaps and bounds in his estimation. If she’d gone through this during every movie that she’d watched with him as a kid, it was a wonder that Spock was still alive. “Alright. Fine. Just don’t say another word until the film is over, alright?” With that, Jim settled back into his chair and tried to keep his eye from twitching every time Spock made a detailed note on his PADD.

“No, Spock, being able to speak Whale is just a joke referring to the long, drawn out notes that most whales use for communicating to one another.”

“Yes, Spock, it was a conversation happening on two levels; no, I don’t know why Dory didn’t state it straight out, mostly because I think that would have been too obvious and would have made it out of character for Dory to be offering life advice to Marlin when she has short term memory loss.”

“Yes, Spock, I realize that pelicans and fish are natural enemies, but it was a plot device in order to bridge the gap between the dentist’s office and the ocean.”

It was frustrating to have this discussion, and Jim wandered what Spock would say if Jim finally broke and just told him to suspend his fucking disbelief so that he could understand the true point of the story. He was trying to be diplomatic, really, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to not offend Spock’s Vulcan sensibilities. If it had been questions about some of the more metaphysical or emotional portions of the story, if it had been something that Jim could believe that Spock genuinely had trouble understanding, but Spock seemed set on nitpicking holes in every aspect of the story instead of enjoying it for what it was.

After about twenty questions which had taken over an hour- and a Vulcan one at that- to explain, Jim said, with a weak smile, “Jeez, congratulations, Spock. I think you’ve successfully sucked all the fun of watching that movie.”

When Spock stiffened, Jim regretted his words, feeling foolish. “I just mean that one of the things about film watching isn’t to point out all the illogical bits, it’s to connect to the characters in an emotional way by finding similarities.” That seemed to only make things worse, however, because Spock stiffened even further.

“I see,” he said, and shut his mouth. He looked down at his PADD, wishing that he was not forever caught between Vulcan and Human social mores, each species expecting him to be like them. He’d rather hoped that Jim would be different; meeting him last night and spending time with him today had seemed to demonstrate otherwise, but his fragile hopes seemed to have been in vain.

Jim, for his part, was thinking desperately of some way to fix things, feeling like a complete ass. “Look, Spock, whatever I did to make you angry, I’m sorry.” Jim winced a little, hating that he sounded more belligerent than he’d planned on sounding. He couldn’t help it; anyone would be at their wits end after being peppered with questions debating the illogicality of a children’s movie.

Bad choice of words; Spock’s eyes flashed with irritation, but all he said was, “I am Vulcan. Vulcans don’t feel anger. There is no need to apologize. Perhaps I should play my film.”

Jim coughed a little before sealing his lips before reminding Spock that he was only half-Vulcan. He sensed that it wouldn’t go over well in the least, especially since he’d seen how Spock reacted to the simple inference that he had emotion in the first place. “Uh, yeah. What did you pick?”

Spock relaxed subtly when Jim didn’t press the issue any further, and some of the tension leaked out of the room. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Spock said.

“Oh,” said Jim softly, and while the tension didn’t quite return, it changed a little, charging the atmosphere with something rich and terrible. “I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do,” Jim quoted.

“Atticus Finch.” Spock agreed, and they stood there, staring at each other. There was something immutable between them at the moment, neither good nor bad but just…charged. Heavy. “You have read the book?”

Jim looked away first. “I have a copy upstairs, actually. I’ve never seen the movie, though. Which version do you have?” He turned back to Spock, but still couldn’t meet his eyes.

Spock turned his attention to the vid player, bringing up the movie. “The first one, from the Earth year 1962. I believe it is the one that most closely matches the book.”

“I see,” Jim said blandly. He sat back on his chair, curling up in it and angling his body away from Spock, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation and wanting nothing more than to escape from the room, to go and just think about how everything had managed to become so awkward so quickly. Instead he watched the movie, which he thoroughly enjoyed despite himself and then made his excuses to Spock so he could attempt to fall asleep in the quiet of his own room. He saw Spock open his mouth, presumably to explain why he had chosen To Kill a Mockingbird. Jim, who had some ideas of his own as to why Spock had chosen the movie, didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to be in the strained atmosphere any longer than he absolutely had to. Spock hadn’t done more than nod when Jim had claimed to be tired, so Jim escaped the room while he still could, and had breathed easier as a result.

Perhaps Spock’s right. Perhaps it’s just best if we go our separate ways after his pon farr and only meet once every seven years. If this is how we get along after twenty four hours, then we’ll probably kill each other before his Time even comes around in a couple of months. We’ll definitely kill each other if we end up bonded. Jim thought, staring at the ceiling. He felt an odd sort of relief that Spock hadn’t planned to have some sort of happily-ever-after once pon farr was completed. If he didn’t believe that it would work out in that fashion, Jim’s challenge would come as that much less of a blow, Jim was sure. It would even free Spock up to get the bond that he always wanted, with the person he always wanted, instead of having to settle for Jim.

It took forever to fall asleep however, despite Jim’s attempt to convince himself that everything was going to be alright. A ball of anxiety knotted up his stomach for a long time before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. His dreams were plagued with Atticus Finch and Marlin having a conversation as Spock tracked their movements with an old style video recorder. Then Spock released the flare of anger that Jim had seen for so short a time in Spock’s eyes that evening, furious for Jim’s perceived betrayal. When he finally awoke, it was far before his alarm clock went off.

He stared at the ceiling, headache building, and wondered when the hell his life had turned into a freaking soap opera.

~*~

Six days later the ease that they’d had that first day had still not returned. The week had been chock full of so-called dates, but they had been quiet, dreary, stilted affairs that had bored Jim out of his skull while also making him want to hide under a rock from the sheer awkwardness. Jim discovered that there was a reason that no one in his right mind would willingly visit a Vulcan museum; normally, Jim was all for museums, but Vulcans managed to successfully suck all the fun and mystery out of archaeology. Everything was catalogued, described and labeled in intricate detail. They was no sense of wonder from the others in the museum, as if they were being given the opportunity to see something truly precious. The other dates weren’t much better, and Jim quickly began to give up on enjoying a single moment of his time on Vulcan.

The recent most attempt to get to know each other was centered around having a private dinner together in one of the most well known restaurants on Vulcan, which specialized in traditional meals. They were seated in a private booth towards the back in order to give them the maximum amount of privacy. Spock even did the gentlemanly thing and explained what ingredients were present in each dish, to see which would be most suitable to Jim‘s palate. It was sweet in theory, but it was spoken in so guarded a tone, so stilted and stiff a manner that it was entirely unappealing. Jim had thought he would be alright with distance between himself and Spock, almost happy because that meant less guilt for him, but enough was enough. This was becoming simply ridiculous.

“Alright, that’s it,” Jim said in the middle of an admittedly fairly delicious meal. He set his fork down, blue eyes snapping with annoyance.

“What is ‘it’.” Spock said blankly, looking up from some sort of mashed potato…bean…thing…that tasted far better than it looked. “Did I miss an earlier comment that the pronoun ‘it’ refers to?” Jim couldn’t help that Spock even ate stiffly, carefully taking one bite at a time and chewing it completely before swallowing.

“No, it’s just…” Jim gestured between them, trying to encompass everything he‘d been feeling the last couple of days in a single movement. From Spock’s raised eyebrows, he had no idea as to what Jim was talking about. “This, Spock.” Still no reaction, and Jim sighed, attempting to explain in language that Spock could understand. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, right, but I feel like we’ve done nothing but take steps backwards. I can’t deal with this for the next couple of months because I‘m going to end up doing something drastic. What…” he sighed. “This isn’t fair to either of us. We’re adults, we can talk this out, figure out what the hell went wrong. Look…” an idea sparked and Jim bit his lip, thoughts racing. “Are you lactose intolerant?”

Spock, who had been trying to muster up a proper response to Jim’s deluge, shut his mouth from the apparent non-sequitur. Choosing to answer the easier of the two questions, he answered, trying his best not to sound bewildered. “I have no problem digesting any milk or milk by products from any creature that is compatible with the Vulcan or Human physiologies, which includes but is not limited to the Terran cow, goat, sheep as well as the Vulcan sha‘mi and tugno’t.”

“Great- now I saw that Amanda uses half and half in her coffee in the morning. Is that from a cow? From a Terran cow?”

“Yes, she has it imported on a monthly basis specifically for that purpose.” Jim looked momentarily guilty, then shook his head as if dislodging a thought. Spock found that he was getting increasingly apprehensive; Jim was Human and therefore Spock was unlikely to be able to predict his response, considering that his only experience with Humans was his mother, who had done her best to conform to the most important Vulcan social mores. He had no idea where Jim was headed with these suggestions. “Jim, for what purpose do you need half and half? Or-”

“Do you have sugar and vanilla?” Jim asked, unwilling to let Spock gain momentum. Derailed, Spock nodded his head. “Fabulous, that’s all I needed to know. Now, we’re going to finish our meal, we’re going to pay the nice Vulcans so we don’t get arrested for a dine-and-dash, and then you’re going to meet me in your kitchen in an hour with your favorite fruit. And don’t give me any shit about not having a favorite fruit. Everyone has a favorite fruit. Can you do that for me?”

Spock tried to the assemble the results of the ingredients in his head, but he’d always done the bare minimum in the kitchen. He did not have a talent for the culinary arts, as his mother discovered early one when he’d gotten distracted by an experiment and set the kitchen on fire.

While boiling water.

“Very well,” Spock agreed cautiously, “Assuming that the results of this cooking experiment will have no adverse effects on either the kitchen or ourselves, I can see no reason why we cannot cook…whatever it is you’re planning on cooking. I feel I must warn you that I have no experience with cooking.”

Something sweet uncurled in Jim’s chest, and his first genuine smile in the last week came to his face, lighting it up in a way that made a similar warmth grow in Spock’s chest. For the first time all week, they were both completely at ease, tension falling away from their forms as they began eating again. “So you don’t know what those ingredients make up?” Jim’s smile grew a little mischievous, but not cruel. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see, then. Don’t worry, as long as you like the component ingredients we’ll be fine. And it’s alright- I’ve made this recipe about a million times before in the way I‘m planning to make it.” Jim got a little shifty eyed, and then said, “And no, I’m not going to tell you how I’m planning on making the surprise either, but trust me. Everyone loves it. So will you- as long as you don’t mind the occasional dessert.” Jim teased, eyes sparkling in the low light of the restaurant.

“Vulcans have desserts as well,” Spock defended. “I have no objections to the occasional sugar intake beyond that found in fruits and vegetables, as it releases endorphins as a direct result of the excess sugar and therefore helps maintain health.”

Jim pressed his lips together in order to hide his smile. He didn’t want Spock to think he was laughing at him instead of laughing with him so soon after they were starting to get along again. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Jim said. “Well, when I want to ‘maintain my health’, I usually just eat a bar of chocolate.” For some reason, the very idea made Spock flush a little, and Jim filed reaction that away.

They ate in silence for a few moments more, finishing up their plates. Before Jim could make a move for the check, Spock had already pressed his credit chip into the automated waiter’s hand. “You didn’t have to do that,” Jim said, blushing a little. Spock had been very insistent all week that he would pay, and though it had been irritating earlier in the week because of the tension between them, the way Spock glanced over at Jim across from the dinner table with a smile in his eyes made Jim feel like he was being taken care of because Spock wanted to, not because he had to.

“It is my duty,” Spock said simply, but he said it in the same tone a million others have used to say, “I know. I did it because I wanted to,” so Jim forgave him.

“Alright. So here’s the game plan. Make sure we have the half and half, vanilla and sugar, and make sure the half and half is kept nice and cold. Oh, prepare your favorite fruit in bite sized pieces.” Jim stood, hands on his hips and grin on his lips. “Now for one last question. How late is the VSA open?”


	6. Chapter 6

Spock had never before given in to the Human desire to pace across a floor in hopes that it would spontaneously give him all the answers, and he wasn’t about to start now. It was, however, a battle that was narrowly won. His stomach, pleasantly full with the food from the restaurant, twisted around itself with a sort of giddy excitement that made Spock feel ashamed for being so eager for Jim’s surprise. He decided that reclassifying it as curiosity made it acceptable, and sat down at the kitchen table to wait.  
  
“Spock, you there?” said Jim’s voice through his comm.  
  
Spock startled, and scrambled in an entirely undignified manner for his comm, nearly dropping it in his haste. “Yes, Jim? Do you require aid?”  
  
“Yeah, you could say that. In about three minutes, be at your front door to let me in, alright?” Jim’s voice sounded strained, out of breath, and Spock wondered what Jim could possibly be carrying that had required his entrance to the VSA. Admittedly, since Vulcans kept to their own schedules, the VSA was permanently open so long as you had an access card, which Jim had been issued when he’d registered as a student. The VSA didn’t lock up anything but the most dangerous chemicals and experiments in the building itself, because stealing was illogical and thus Vulcans theoretically did not do it. Of course, no society was perfect, but the possibility of something being stolen from the VSA was exceedingly low, since the access cards were keyed to their owners DNA, which meant that there was restricted access.  
  
“Spock!” Jim hissed from the entrance, clearly trying not to be so loud as to disturb Spock’s parents, whose location Spock didn‘t know at the moment. “Give me a hand, will you, before I keel over? This thing’s damn heavy!”  
  
Spock’s eyes grew wide as he hurried over to Jim and caught sight of exactly what Jim was holding in his arms, complete with rubber gloves. It was one of the five liter canisters used to hold liquid nitrogen. “Jim!” Spock gasped. “Why have you stolen liquid nitrogen?”  
  
“Relax. It’s only five liters from a vat that contains about five thousand and there‘s ten vats that large. No one‘s going to miss it, and besides, it’s for a good cause. Plus I’m going to take the canister back before class tomorrow morning, alright? No harm, no foul.” Jim rolled his eyes. “Besides, about twenty people saw me lugging this thing around the VSA so it’s not like they don’t have witnesses. Therefore, I’ll _definitely_ return it, because I have no interest in personally investigating the Vulcan legal system. Furthermore, the liquid nitrogen is waste- they send most of it out into space or use it in other experiments, so it’s not like it’s some precious compound that they’re going to count every milliliter of, alright? You don’t even have to account for it; they’re practically giving it away. Now help me with this thing before I keel over and die on your floor.” Jim gasped, holding the canister out to Spock.  
  
The half-Vulcan automatically grasped the container and put it on the counter before the cold could seep too far into his hands. Even so, he was forced to rub his hands together for a few seconds in order to warm up his fingers. “Seriously,” Jim said, searching Spock’s face. “You’re alright with this, right? If you‘re not, give a shout now, before we start this.”  
  
Spock debated for a long moment, and then said in low voice, “It is true that the Vulcan Science Academy must pay for the excess nitrogen to be disposed of so that it does not pollute our atmosphere. Since that is the case, appropriating some, despite the lack of formal permission, can be seen as a money saving technique. So long as you return the container, of course.”  
  
“I’m glad to see you agree,” Jim said, and thought, _I guess using logic you can bend rules in some creative ways. Oh well, whatever lets him sleep at night_. “So, did you figure out what we’re making?”  
  
“I am unsure as to the final product given our set list of ingredients, fruit, and liquid nitrogen.”  
  
Jim shrugged. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough, if you don’t already know it. Can you take out all the ingredients? And what fruit did you get? Ooooooh, blueberries, excellent choice. I love a good blueberry.” Jim popped a couple into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as Spock assembled the half and half, sugar and vanilla. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do. Pour a liter of half and half into a large metal bowl, will you?” While Spock did that, Jim looked through the drawers in order to find a large wooden spoon.  
  
“Alright, then put about…oh, let’s start with one hundred grams of sugar and fifteen milliliters of vanilla and we’ll go from there. The blueberries are pretty sweet, so we probably won’t need much more than that. Then whisk it until the sugar dissolves.” Jim said as he carefully moved the liquid nitrogen to the sink and uncapped it.  
  
“Whisk it?” Spock said uncertainly. “How does one whisk something?”  
  
Jim laughed, and then caught sight of Spock’s face. “Oh. You’re not joking. Um, here,” Jim dug around a little more in a drawer and pulled out a whisk. “This is a whisk. Yes, it’s a really weird name.” Jim placed it in Spock’s hand and curled Spock’s fingers around the handle, the brief touch sending frissons of energy through them both. Jim removed his hand from Spock’s quickly. Though Jim knew that Spock might be able to pick something up that way, Jim had long since decided that it wasn‘t worth all the careful avoidance of Spock‘s every move. It was a calculated risk that Spock wouldn‘t pick up something important, but if he spent the entire time refusing to touch Spock, someone was going to figure out that something was up. “Sorry about that. Now take that whisk and move it in a liquid in a circular motion, alright?” Jim watched as Spock began to whisk the liquid and adjusted Spock’s hand motion. “Perfect. Do that for five minutes, alright? That should be enough for the sugar to dissolve. When that’s done, put in the blueberries and mix it for another minute.”  
  
“I have completed my task, Jim,” Spock said several minutes later, bringing the bowl over to Jim. The Human in question peered at the mixture inside.  
  
“Oh, looks good. Nice, Spock. Can you put it in the sink for me? And do you want to mix or pour?”  
  
“Mix or pour?”  
  
“Yeah, either mix the liquid with the wooden spoon, or pour the liquid nitrogen in. It’s the only quick way to make-”  
  
“Ice cream,” Spock interrupted, light dawning in his eyes. Jim smiled delightedly, nodding his head, glad that he’d managed to confound Spock for as long as he had so as not to spoil the surprise. “We’re using the liquid nitrogen as a substitute for the freezing process that takes place in an ice cream makers, and since nitrogen exists as a gas at room temperature, it will naturally dissipate, leaving the cream, sugar, vanilla and blueberries frozen.”  
  
Jim bounced on his toes eagerly. “So do you want to mix or pour?”  
  
“I shall pour,” Spock said decisively. “As I have the greater physical strength, I will be able to more closely control how much liquid is poured into the ice cream mixture.”  
  
“Alright, cool, then you’re going to want gloves, because even though the container is insulated, it’s still pretty darn cold, and Vulcans are sensitive.” Jim put the mixing bowl in the sink and began stirring rapidly, careful not to let it spill. “Any time you want to start, Spock- oh, wait a second,” Jim went rummaging around in the cabinets again, and pulled out a set of the oven mitts that Amanda used when she was baking to protect his own hands from the nitrogen gas that would rise from the bowl, which would also be cold. “Alright, I’m ready.”  
  
Spock began a steady, if miniscule, stream of liquid into the ice cream while Jim kept up his steady stirring. After twelve minutes and thirty three seconds, by Spock’s internal clock, Jim said, “Stop. I think we’re done.” Jim inspected the mixture, which had frozen into a stiff mass, though it was not a total solid. Jim scooped up a large spoonful and plucked it off with his fingers and placed it in his mouth. “Oooh,” Jim said happily. “That’s good, that’s really good. The blueberries are frozen solid too. Perfect. Go on, get us some spoons so we can dig in!”  
  
Spock obediently got the pair of them spoons to use, and Jim motioned for Spock to take a bite, waiting eagerly as Spock catalogued all of his reactions to the ice cream; the rich, sweet flavor of the cream, the burst of blueberry on his tongue. Spock was instantly struck by the desire to have another mouthful (preferably out of Jim’s mouth) which he quashed without delay. Now was not the time to be having inappropriate thoughts about Jim, especially as he’d been busy all week reassuring Jim that he would be free to return to Starfleet after Spock’s Time. After a moment’s thought, Spock decided that it was most likely the increase in hormones as a result of his inclement Time. He brushed off the impulse and returned his attention to the dessert that he and Jim had helped create. He’d only read about ice cream before now, but there was no real way to describe the difference between reading about something and tasting it. Jim hopped up on the counter and dipped into the bowl with his spoon, taking out a heaping spoonful of the ice cream.  
  
“It’s good when it’s fresh, isn’t it?” Jim said around the mouthful, sounding dreamy. “There’s nothing like some ice cream to make the world a better place. And now you know how to make it yourself, so next time you get the urge for some creamy goodness, you can do it yourself. You learn something new every day!”  
  
Spock and Jim devoured spoonful after spoonful, sucking the frozen cream off the metal, searching for every last blueberry. While they ate, they spoke about nothing in particular, absently discussing warp physics one moment and different kinds of ice cream and ice cream recipes the next. Jim realized that Spock had a dry sense of humor that Spock steadfastly maintained was not actually humor while Spock spent a large portion of his time marveling at Jim’s seemingly random encyclopedic knowledge. The entire evening passed in the flash of an eye, or so it seemed in Jim’s opinion. Though it was still awkward at parts as they worked to feel each other out once again, it was still leagues away from the pained distance that had sat between them before.  
  
“Crap, I’ve got class in the morning,” Jim said, noticing the time. “If I’m going to be worth anything in the morning, I should go to bed now. I’ll meet you down here for breakfast?” Jim said, unable to stop the questioning tone in his voice. Though they seemed to have repaired the majority of the damage done by their argument, or…whatever the hell it had been, because Jim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed to piss Spock off so long and so thoroughly without actually shouting at him, Jim wasn’t entirely sure he’d be welcome.  
  
“You would be most welcome,” Spock said shyly, picking out another blueberry from the ice cream so as to avoid looking directly at Jim.  
  
“Oh, cool,” Jim said, and he was sure he had blushed more this evening than he had in years. He jumped down off the counter and capped the liquid nitrogen, as he’d forgotten to do so earlier. Jim placed the container back on the floor and sighed. “Remind me to bring that back to the VSA in the morning, alright? I’d hate to forget.” Jim lifted his arms, twisting from side to side in order to crack his back and then put a lid on the remaining ice cream, placing it in the freezer. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”  
  
Spock nodded, watching as Jim made his way up the stairs. He permitted himself a single, slow exhale, not quite heavy enough for it to be a true sigh, but definitely heavier than a normal breath. Spock wasn’t sure quite how to categorize Jim. He was highly intelligent and aesthetically pleasing, certainly, but there was a certain wild air to him, an unrestrained emotion and exuberance that was so different from what Spock had previously been exposed to that he simply wasn’t sure how to react to it. It made him simultaneously more confident in his assessment that Jim should simply leave Vulcan after Spock’s Time and make him desire nothing more than to convince Jim to stay. Spock once again decided that it was most likely hormones and took meditative breaths in order to center himself and return his steadfast control.  
  
Spock stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, acute ears picking up the sound of footsteps. It was neither his father’s nearly silent movements, nor Jim’s heavy, clomping step but rather the light, delicate movements of his mother coming down the staircase. “Hey darling, I heard you come in earlier, but I was a little busy, and afterwards I didn‘t want to interrupt; it sounded like you were getting along well. Did you and Jim have an adequate dinner?”  
  
Spock nodded absently. “Jim used liquid nitrogen in order to make blueberry ice cream after our meal,” Spock said, and he looked at his mother. “Is this normal behavior for dates?”  
  
Amanda raised an eyebrow, coming to stand next to her son. “It can be. One person making another person food is often used to show that they care and are interested in that person’s well-being.”  
  
Spock nodded again, staring down at his hands. “He made ice cream because he said that ‘we’re supposed to be getting to know each other, right, but I feel like we’ve done nothing but take steps backwards. I can’t deal with this for the next couple of months’,” Spock quoted.  
  
“Well, Spock, you could have cut the tension between the pair of you with a knife,” Amanda agreed. “Your father and I were beginning to wonder if we would have to intervene. What happened?”  
  
“That first night, Jim suggested that we each pick films for the other to watch. He chose _Finding Nemo_ ,” Spock began. “I found the film to be illogical in many ways, and in my efforts to more fully understand the movie, Jim became frustrated with my questions. I was unable to communicate with Jim properly. While we seemed to have come to a conclusion over our disagreement, I am still not comfortable with the situation. I am unsure how to respond to the fact that Jim seemed to expect me to be to be Human, when I have in fact held to Vulcan tenants all my life.”  
  
Amanda thought for a moment. “I can’t tell you how to deal with the last bit; I think you’re going to need to discover how to face the fact that you are from two worlds on your own. I can only tell you that being Human is not always a bad thing. Emotion is…” Amanda sighed, eyes distant. “Well, perhaps now isn‘t the time to debate the relative merits of emotions. However, as for the first part, it’s only to be expected. Do you think your father and I always got along? Even now, with the bond in place for over thirty years of marriage we don’t always see eye to eye. We’ve said things that we regret still, and we know we’re not always going to be happy with each other. When I came here for his first Time, there were entire days were I was frustrated to the point of tears because I couldn’t understand why he was acting the way he was. You’re going to have to give it time, Spock. You’re coming from different backgrounds, different experiences, you have different wants and needs. Jim, most likely, has taken for granted the very Human quality of being able to suspend disbelief in order to appreciate the emotion of the situation. Humans specialize in metaphors, in similes- we use these tools to overcome the fact that we express our emotions differently, that we view the world differently. He probably took it for granted that you would understand that _Finding Nemo_ isn’t about fish, but it’s about the bonds of family and friends that connect us all, and how even when we’re frustrated with them there are still the ties of love connecting us to one another. Jim is therefore going to have to understand that Vulcans view love and family differently, that they view emotions differently. Perhaps you should talk to him about it,” she suggested.  
  
There was a few moments of silence as Spock considered her words. It was true; that first night, Spock had expected Jim to be willing to answer any and all of his questions, because a Vulcan would assume that it was only natural to understand the illogic of a situation before proceeding; his mother had not had a problem doing so when he was a child, but Spock was just now realizing that perhaps it was a learned behavior, not a natural one. If his mother was correct, then it was probably true that Jim had expected him to respond as a human would to the film. It would also explain why the pair of them had spent the week struggling to understand one another, since each was expecting a certain set of reactions from the other.  
  
Amanda faced her son, smiling gently. “Of course, in turn, you have to accept that Jim is very human. He is going to express emotion to some degree no matter what. He’s going to laugh and encourage you to be happy and show signs of that happiness, because as Humans, we are trained that unless there is a physical sign, unless there is something that can be seen or felt or heard, it’s not there, since we have never had bonds with which to mentally connect to our partners. If you’re going to make this work, you’re going to have to give a little, even if only in private.” Amanda suddenly grinned wickedly. “Your father certainly does.”  
  
Spock closed his eyes. “Mother,” he said plaintively. “Please, I do not need to know about the carnal relations between you and Father.”  
  
“Well how do you think you got here?” Amanda retorted, laughing while Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Or find a way to perfect a memory erasing device in order to remove the images that had sprung up as a result of her words.  
  
Amanda kissed his cheek and moved to leave the room. “I will take your words into consideration,” Spock said before she could leave the room.  
  
Amanda paused, looking over her shoulder. “Just know that it won’t always be easy.”  
  
“I comprehend that.”  
  


~*~

  
  
“Spock, I had a couple questions about my lab, if you have a moment,” Jim said after his last lab of the week two weeks later. He bounced in without another greeting and come to stand next to Spock. The rest of the lab didn’t stir at his entrance, having become used to Jim‘s high energy. It seemed like everyone was wrapping up for the day, since Spock was currently uploading some information from the computer to his PADD and the graduate students T’Krina and T’Kala were packing up their things. “Either I’m not understanding this concept, or this problem has some major issues, because I’m currently being told that I need 14.679 moles of hydrogen mixed in with the antimatter containment unit to provide correct stabilization, and I’m pretty sure that’s not nearly enough.”  
  
Jim showed Spock his PADD and sat down next to him. Spock set down his own PADD, allowing for it to finish loading and took a look through Jim’s calculations. “You are not entirely incorrect. That is the amount of net hydrogen stabilization. However, you must compensate for Isaven’s Uncertainty Principle and remember that you must add in some carbon as part of the lining structure. Therefore you’ve got to add in excess hydrogen to compensate for the hydrogen that will react with the carbon at the high temperatures present in the warp core in order to stabilize the antimatter.”  
  
“But where am I supposed to compensate?” Jim said, frowning at the equation, mind racing. “And don’t you have to get rid of the hydrocarbons that form as a result?”  
  
“The hydrocarbons are automatically filtered out once they reach a chain of four or larger by the polymerization system. And you calculate it here, when you work to figure out the Williams Shift.” Spock said, one long finger pointing out the spot in the equation where Jim had gone wrong.  
  
“Oh…and then you go through and when you square it…” Jim went through the calculations in his head, eyes flickering over the equations and plugging in the new numbers automatically. “Ah, yeah, that makes more sense. That way…yeah. That makes much more sense. Thanks Spock!” Jim said, patting Spock’s hand, completely ignorant when Spock jerked under the gentle pressure.  
  
“It was not a problem,” Spock said, eyes darting over to Sokal, who was staring hard at the computer and very carefully not looking at either Jim or Spock. Though Spock had done his best to rectify Jim’s abysmal knowledge about Vulcan telepathy and other Vulcan norms, Spock had not yet revealed this his hands were sensitive in a way unconnected with said telepathy.  
  
“Mind if I hang out here while you wrap things up? I’m done for the day, so we can head home whenever you’re ready.” It gave Spock a little thrill when Jim called the house that he’d been born and raised in ‘home’, despite all of Spock‘s reassurance to himself and Jim that the Human would be free to go after _pon farr_. The thrill came largely from his understanding that a home was different from a house, in that a home had a more personal connection. It was…pleasant in a way that Spock hadn’t experienced before. Since that night when they’d made ice cream, Spock and Jim had slowly settled into a pattern; they would get up and Jim would attend either classes in the morning or lab in the afternoon, while his free time would be spent either doing homework or helping Spock with his work. The evenings were their own, to do whatever they wished, and though they didn’t often chose to spend their time in the company of each other, there was remarkably little awkwardness about it; in fact, it was more of a relief to spend some time on their own. The weekend was spent more or less together, doing whatever came to mind, though more often than not if things got boring halfway through, Jim would drag him off to do something fun.  
  
Of course, Jim’s idea of ‘fun’ was dubious at best. Jim had unsuccessfully tried to convince Spock to go recreational rock climbing on the cliffs outside the city and camping, though if Spock was going to be fair, Jim _had_ successfully convinced him to cook with him (which had, surprisingly enough, not resulted in a fire) and teach him traditional Vulcan dances. They’d also spent several evenings perfectly comfortable doing nothing more than reading. Though Spock would not admit it, he’d truly enjoyed all of Jim’s plans.  
  
Spock slyly glanced over to where Jim was busily writing something on his PADD. Though he’d thought it before, Spock was warming more and more to the idea of spending the rest of his life with Jim as his bondmate. It didn’t give him that empty feeling anymore. He didn’t feel as trapped by the bond, didn’t feel like being bonded to a Human was the worst of all possible things.  
  
Instead, he was rather looking forward to it. Perhaps at the very least they could be cordial colleagues beyond Spock‘s biological needs.  
  
He just hoped that Jim felt the same.  
  


~*~

  
  
Jim left class that day as he left most classes in the Vulcan Science Academy, feeling as though he’d come out of the room with his brain stuffed to capacity and it was slowly oozing out of his ears as a result. He rubbed at his face, looking forward to lunch; his stomach had insisted on grumbling throughout the last half hour of the class, and he’d gotten more than one politely scandalized look from a fellow student. Jim had been forced to bite down his instinctual comment, which had been, “The next person to give me a look will become my first victim when I turn to cannibalism to sate my hunger,” but he figured that in the interest of diplomacy, he ought to bite his tongue.  
  
He felt a little bit ridiculous letting Amanda make his lunches on a regular basis, but Amanda had said in no uncertain terms that if she was making Spock’s- which she always did, because Spock could not be trusted on his own in the kitchen- she may as well make Jim’s as well. Jim usually ate with Spock, though occasionally he’d met over lunch with some of the other students in order to complete projects. Today, luckily, was not one of those days, and Jim was looking forward to being able to relax his brain for an hour or so during lunch before returning to the world of warp core physics and chemistry in order to complete his homework.  
  
His mind was completely focused the day’s assignment as he wove through the busy halls, careful not to touch any of the Vulcans out of simple courtesy. It was one thing to touch Spock, but other Vulcans, even Sokal, didn’t take to it as kindly without substantial warning.  
  
Therefore, when someone grabbed his arm, it was a shock.  
  
Jim had become used to the careful distance between everyone physically on Vulcan. They didn’t touch each other, didn’t give physical displays of affection unless they were married, and even then it was limited to some strange hand movements that Jim didn‘t fully understand yet. Jim, as a Human, had done his best to respect their wishes, and as a result, he found himself touching Spock and Amanda more than he would have normally, hungry for physical contact. As his bondmate, it was perfectly acceptable for Jim to touch Spock even in public, and the Vulcans were willing enough to look the other way as to just how Jim was touching Spock on the grounds that he was Human; so long as they didn’t start making out in the hallways, any other contact was politely disregarded. With Amanda, it seemed only natural. She touched her husband and child as often as they would allow, and as two people from a culture where physical affection was the norm, Jim found himself absently bumping shoulders with her or slinging an arm around her shoulder, while Amanda in turn treated Jim like another son.  
  
But this was not Spock, whose heat Jim was beginning to know better than his own name. And of course it wasn’t Amanda, since she had said she’d be at the Embassy with Sarek all day, and she‘d never been the sort to simply drop by without warning.  
  
Then who-  
  
“Gary,” Jim breathed, eyes widening almost comically as he turned and found his boyfriend standing there.  
  
“Hey, darling,” Gary drawled, eyes flickering over Jim’s body in an unmistakable manner. A grin made the corners of his eyes wrinkle, and his tongue flicked out as he pressed close to Jim. “Did you miss me?” 


	7. Chapter 7

“What are you doing here?” Jim was embarrassed to hear his voice end in a squeak as he pulled Gary down a few side hallways before too many people could see them together.  
  
Gary’s grin dropped off his face. “I thought you’d be happy to see me, Jim. Isn’t that what you wanted?”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Jim said, perhaps a touch to fast. Then, with genuine heat Jim continued, “But I thought that we agreed that we were going to challenge privately, that we weren’t going to attract any more attention to ourselves than we absolutely had to. You coming up and practically molesting me in the middle of a hallway filled with Vulcans is not the way to keep a lid on things.”  
  
“Jesus, Jim, alright,” Gary said grumpily. “I thought you would be happy to see me. I guess not.”  
  
Something squirmed in Jim’s stomach, but he plastered a smile on his face and after a quick glance about to make sure that no one was present, Jim pressed a kiss to Gary’s mouth, which the other man received eagerly. After a moment of perseverance on Jim’s part, Gary’s mouth opened beneath him and Jim pressed the advantage, tongues running together in a fast and heated kiss. Gary’s arms wrapped around Jim’s neck, and Jim wound his around Gary’s hips, effectively pressing them together from shoulders to thigh as they continued to kiss.  
  
Though Jim had missed this, had missed spending time with Gary, the kiss just wasn’t the same. He broke it with regret nonetheless, for it had been pleasant to lose himself in the comfortable sensations. Gary was familiar. They rested their foreheads against each other, bodies still pressed close, and Jim ran his fingers at the waistband of Gary‘s pants. Jim could feel Gary’s interest stirring against his own, and Gary tilted his head, half-smile growing on his face. “What do you say to you joining me for a little relaxation? We can talk afterwards.”  
  
Jim nodded, smiling a little. “I _would_ like to know how you got here and all. I thought that we hadn’t figure out that part of the plan yet, but I stand corrected.” Jim dropped another kiss on Gary’s willing mouth. “Lemme just comm Spock, alright. We normally eat lunch together-”  
  
“Holy shit, you even eat with the robot? Is there anything you guys don’t do together?” Gary interrupted, rolling his eyes.  
  
Defensive, Jim pulled a little away from Gary and stated, “We spent plenty of time apart, thanks.”  
  
Gary seemed to realize that this was not the route to take, and he kissed the corner of Jim’s mouth gently, then more strongly when Jim‘s mouth was pliant against his own. “Sorry, I don’t want the first time we’ve talked in over two weeks to start with an argument.”  
  
With a guilty jerk, Jim realized that he’d not called Gary in a while. He’d been so caught up in classes and dating Spock that he hadn’t even returned the call that Gary had left for him a week ago. In apology, Jim kissed Gary properly again, long and slow and deep. They broke apart, panting, breathing in each other‘s air for a moment before. “Let me comm Spock, and we can go to your place. Uh, you _do_ have a place, don’t you?” Jim said uncertainly, pulling back a little.  
  
Gary laughed quietly. “Yeah, I do- and I‘ll tell you everything as we head over there. Just tell Spock you’re catching up with an old friend. He doesn’t have to know that there’s benefits involved.” Gary sucked at the skin just behind Jim’s ear. Jim’s eyes fluttered a little.  
  
“Stop distracting me,” Jim replied breathlessly, pushing Gary away. He pulled his comm out and said, “Spock?”  
  
“ _Yes, Jim_ ,” Spock said almost instantly, and the guilt threatened to rise once more. It was quickly repressed by the feeling of Gary’s tongue against his neck. This was what he wanted, this pleasure coursing through him, even if it didn’t feel quite the same as before he’d come to Vulcan.  
  
“Listen, an friend of mine from the Academy has come for…” Jim trailed off, unsure as to exactly why Gary was there.  
  
“I’m doing some research into telepathy and ESP,” Gary filled in between suckling kisses over Jim‘s pulse.  
  
“For some research in telepathy and ESP,” Jim finished, hoping that he didn’t sound as breathless through the comm as he thought he did. “Do you mind terribly if I bail for the afternoon to hang out with him? I’ll be back for dinner,” Jim wheedling while trying to squirm out of Gary’s grasp.  
  
There was a long pause, and then Spock said in a carefully neutral tone, “ _I have no issue with you spending time with your…friend. Since you have not seen him in several weeks, it is only reasonable that you should spend some time with him. I shall alert my mother as to your whereabouts and that you will still be attending dinner_.”  
  
“Thanks, Spock!” Jim said gratefully. “See you later!” He shoved his comm back in his bag, twisting in Gary’s grip so they were face to face once more.  
  
“So you’re all mine now, eh?” Gary whispered into Jim’s ear.  
  
“Yeah,” Jim gasped. “I’m all yours. Well, we have to get out of here first and then I’m all yours, unless you‘re planning on giving every Vulcan in the area a show, which I‘d personally recommend against.”  
  
“I suppose we can’t do that,” Gary agreed, backing off. “The scandal might offend their delicate emotionless sensibilities. But in return, you have to do something for me.” Gary swayed closer. “Let me fuck you senseless,” Gary whispered into his ear, hot breath making Jim shudder.  
  
Jim grinned slowly. “I was planning on letting you do that anyways.” Gary laughed and finally detached from Jim, leading him on the way out of the VSA as they joked and laughed, catching up with each other’s news with ease. An hour later, Jim and Gary had arrived at the rented apartment, Gary having revealed that he’d been successful in his attempts to gain access to the VSA in order to do his research. “You heard me talk about doing my thesis work in extra sensory perception. When you told me that you were headed to Vulcan at the end of the semester, I figured this was the perfect time for a big push to try and get into the VSA. I’ve been planning this all along. You couldn’t know when Spock’s Time was going to come in enough time for me to get here by starship, so I figured that I might as well come a little early. This way you’ve got someone to rely on when you’re at your wits end,” Gary explained. “Now I’ll be here for his Time, kick his ass, and you’ll be free as a bird.”  
  
For that, Jim had shoved him up against the door in Gary’s apartment and kissed him as soon as they‘d made it inside. It was the first time Jim had been able to touch him since Gary had first grabbed his arm in the VSA without the worry that someone might see. Jim really and truly kissed him as a result, like he was trying to suck Gary’s soul out via his mouth. In a flash, Gary had reversed their position, and Jim raised a leg and wrapped it around Gary’s waist to bring them in closer contact; his hands were too busy trying to get Gary out of his shirt. They never even made it to the bed. Instead, they ended up sprawled on the floor, naked and rubbing skin against glorious skin. It was just what Jim wanted, what he needed, this desperate desire swelling up in him as a result of Gary’s ministrations. Gary was right- he needed to focus, remember that he was only on Vulcan temporarily, that once Spock’s _pon farr_ hit it would all be over. Gary would fight and hopefully win, and Jim would be free.  
  
“Only I can do this to you,” Gary rasped as he wriggled his first finger into Jim’s body. All of Jim’s meditations on the matter were obliterated by the first press of Gary’s finger to his prostrate hard enough to make him yelp. Jim was tighter than he’d been in a while from the lack of regular sex, and Gary was eager to see just how tight he’d be around his cock. “Trust me, Jim, trust that I’m here. I’ve got you. I‘m here for you, I‘m going to fight for you.”  
  
“Yes,” Jim hissed, arching his back, and the words was more of a raspy cry than an actual agreement. “You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” he repeated like a blessed litany. This was what he‘d wanted, this was what he‘d craved: the rough reassurance that could only come from physical intimacy like this, even if something in Jim still cried out against it. “Come on, I haven’t had you in weeks, _please_ , Gary, please don’t keep me waiting. I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m _ready_ , dammit.” And he was- it was a little rough, a little raw, but it was _perfect_. It was mere moments before Jim was coming with Gary’s hand on him, body relaxing as Gary finished in him. He felt emptied out now. He’d forgotten somehow, that it was only a temporary situation, that he didn’t really want to be here, but Gary’s body had reminded him of the world outside.  
  
They lay there on the floor afterwards, letting the heat of Vulcan calm their breathing and send them into a light doze, the warmth soaking into their skin. Jim was sore in a way he hadn’t been for over a month, and it felt wonderful afterglow running through his veins. He’d forgotten, here on Vulcan, here with Spock, that sheer physical release could feel so good. Gary rolled over and Jim followed, coming to lean his head on Gary’s body.  
  
“We’re going to have to clean up, eventually,” Jim said drowsily.  
  
“Probably,” Gary agreed, running his fingers through Jim’s hair. Jim sighed, leaning into the gentle touch.  
  
Jim traced random patterns on Gary’s chest, knowing that his fingers tracing over Gary‘s nipple would help draw out the other man‘s pleasure. “It really is just a formality that I’m here at all, Gary. I don’t want to be here. You‘ll enjoy this- even Spock isn‘t thrilled by this whole thing. He keeps reassuring me that after _pon farr_ I‘ll only need to come around once every seven years.” Jim smiled a little, and leaned up for a chaste kiss.  
  
“Oh, it seems like the Vulcan has sense after all,” Gary said with a dry laugh. “Though you won’t have to worry about that happening. After all, I’ll kick his ass, just like I said, and you’ll be completely free, Jim. And come on, don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts just because you won’t actually have to live all your days out on this planet.”  
  
“Relax, Gary, the plan’s still on. I really don’t want to be here. On Vulcan, I mean. I want to be with you for as long as it‘ll last.”  
  
Gary’s laugh rumbled through Jim’s body in an entirely pleasant way. He hadn’t so much as risked jacking off since he’d come to Vulcan, far too aware that there were essentially three other strangers in the house. It was nice to finally have a release, the still afterglow running through his body. “I know,” Gary said. “You had me a bit worried there at the beginning. I was starting to think you’d gotten a case of Stockholm Syndrome, especially with that bit about Spock being reasonable and letting you live your own life. You shouldn‘t have to be ‘let’ to do anything.”  
  
Jim batted at Gary’s chest, warmed as always by Gary‘s defense. “I haven’t been kidnapped, and I certainly don‘t have a case of Stockholm Syndrome.”  
  
“But you are here against your will,” Gary said gently, and Jim looked away first. “Come on, Jim, you can’t possibly say that there’s not coercion involved, at the very least.” Gary continued, and Jim rolled his eyes, irritated  
  
“It’s not all that bad,” Jim argued back heatedly, getting up. “You make just being here sound like a death sentence, Gary.”  
  
“But isn’t it?”  
  
“Not if you’re really here to fight for me.”  
  
“I guess,” Gary said, but his eyes were still suspicious.  
  
“Let’s not talk about this, please. We just saw each other for the first time in weeks, we had fantastic sex- can’t that just be enough for now?” Jim said tiredly, now more lethargic than sleepily sated. “I’m going to grab a shower. Maybe we can do something for lunch? I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m starving.”  
  
“Sure,” Gary said, mouth a little tight. “It’s a sonic shower, first door to your left.”  
  
“Thanks.” Jim picked up his clothing and made his way to the bathroom, heart heavy. He’d said that he had no interest in Spock. Having sex with Gary was supposed to reassure him that yes, he was in fact still interested in his freedom. It was supposed to make him remember that he was here against his will, that he was going to challenge and get out of this bond that was ruining his entire life. It wasn’t supposed to make him compare the heat of Spock to the heat of Gary. It wasn’t supposed to make him wonder how Spock’s lips would feel against his own. It wasn’t supposed to make him think about how it might be to stay here despite Spock’s reassurances that he could return to Starfleet as soon as Spock’s Time was completed.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to make him question his future with Spock, because he wasn’t in love with Spock. He wasn’t even in like with Spock.  
  
Was he?  
  


~*~

  
  
“So there’s something that I don’t understand,” Jim informed Spock roughly without so much as an introduction. Spock had been sitting at his desk and working through a set of calculations when Jim had stormed in with his usual whirlwind of energy, face furious, practically bristling. Spock was rather surprised by the change; in his experience, Jim had always been a rather positive individual, and this alteration in his behavior was not entirely welcome. “I’ve been keeping up with my Command training classes for Starfleet, and we’re sent weekly situations where you must make a choice in a given situation from Starfleet records and explain the reasoning behind your command and why you either agreed or disagreed with the decision made by the commanding officer.”  
  
This seemed to be some sort of social cue that Jim expected him to respond to. Spock set down his PADD and stylus and gave Jim his full attention. “I have assured you that you would be able to return to Starfleet after my Time. Therefore this is a reasonable thing to do.” Spock said over the strange pang in vicinity of his heart. He hoped that this would placate Jim’s unreasonable tone.  
  
Jim’s eyes narrowed and Spock quickly inferred that this was not the correct response to make. “This week’s situation involves a Vulcan ship,” Jim continued, staring at Spock pointedly.  
  
“What is it exactly that you’ve having trouble with?” Spock said for the sake of expediency. He would be unable to respond to Jim‘s issue unless he was properly informed as to the basis of the issue. He took in the dark look currently painted on Jim’s face and yet another pang went through him. “For what reason does the fact that the ship came from Vulcan matter?”  
  
“ _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one_ ,” Jim quoted through clenched teeth. “What the hell kind of an idea is that?”  
  
“A logical one,” Spock said, dark eyes meeting Jim’s guilelessly. “It is a common Vulcan saying that is often held to be one of the basic understandings of the principles of logic first taught by Surak. If one person must die in order to save the lives of thousands, is it not reasonable to sacrifice that one life?”  
  
Jim could see he really didn’t have an issue with what he’d just said. Jim’s mouth tightened. “Spock, the commanding Vulcan officer left two of his men behind on a _hostile alien planet_ when their shuttle crashed in order to get back up to the atmosphere. How could he _do_ that?” Jim shoved his PADD at Spock, needing Spock to understand where he was coming from. “Go on, read. When asked about his decision, he said that ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one’.”  
  
Spock’s eyes flickered over the text, picking up the important points. He could find nothing to dispute. Handing it back to Jim, Spock asked, “What is the central issue to this situation?”  
  
Jim stared at Spock blankly and then annunciated, “Spock. _He left two men behind_.”  
  
“And saved the lives of five others,” Spock retorted, and there was a bite of something as dark in his tone as in Jim’s. The Human was taken aback for a few long moments, and then he glared at Spock, trying to communicate all of his anger with his eyes, knowing that too many verbal or physical demonstrations of his anger would make things worse. Spock liked to pretend that he was emotionless, but there was far too much expressed by his eyes for that to ever be true. If Spock was in a particularly good mood, he might even allow it to show in the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t the case now- Spock’s entire body was stiff and strained, and coldness was rolling off him in heavy waves that made Jim wonder if it was a statue that was sitting in front of him.  
  
“That doesn’t make it right, Spock!” Jim explained, gesturing wildly with his hands. “It is _wrong_ for a commanding officer to be able to pick and choose who lives and dies.”  
  
“On the contrary, Jim. That is one of the very responsibilities of someone in the command track. They are highly trained to make such decisions. I am sure that you too will have to face what is colloquially termed as ‘no-win scenarios’. As I recall, there are several simulations in which a person’s response to a situation where multiple people _will_ die no matter what the decision is made,” Spock said, eyes darkening even further, chin lifting. “There is a 99.99999 percent chance that at some point during your career you will be faced with a similar decision where the lives of your shipmates will be at stake.”  
  
“That’s one thing,” Jim snarled, pointing a finger at Spock. He didn’t quite touch him, but he came close. The heat of Spock’s body blazed against him nevertheless, and it felt strangely good. “We go into command knowing that not every decision will be the right one, and we will have to live with that. If we can’t, then we’re not cut out for the work. What I’m talking about is picking and choosing someone to stay behind. How can someone say to another: you are of lesser value to this expedition and therefore you will be left behind? It‘s cold, it‘s immoral, it‘s…” Jim waved his arms. “No, just…no. It’s wrong.”  
  
“It is _not_ wrong,” Spock hissed, and his voice became low and dangerous, that icy façade beginning to crack and letting the fury leak through. “As a result of his actions, Commander Stival saved the lives of himself and four of his compatriots. It was the right decision. There was the minimum loss of life as a result of his actions.”  
  
“Tell that to Ensign T’Pronn and Lieutenant Sivil, and their families,” Jim growled, voice becoming increasingly heated. “Tell that to Ensign T’Pronn’s bondmate and her two daughters. How could Commander Stival possibly think that his decisions were acceptable?”  
  
“I am sure that he carefully considered all possible ramifications of his decision before making his decision. It is regretful that their lives were lost, as it would be regretful if any lives were lost. But they understood ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one’. They were unnecessary to the mission in a way that others were not.”  
  
“If I was the commanding officer on that mission,” Jim said, and he spoke with fire and steel and absolute conviction in his voice, “And there was no machinery that I could remove from the ship, no way to lighten the load, no possible way for my men to get into the air, I would be the first to volunteer myself to stay behind. I would not demand others stay behind in my name as I flew off to safety. I would be the first off the craft to let them fly off. It should be a commanding officer’s honor to stay behind and make sure his men survive.”  
  
Dead silence fell between Jim and Spock, a silence filled with accusations and fury and the inability to understand. Jim and Spock stared at each other, Jim a picture of incandescent anger that blazed hot, matched by Spock’s icy façade, tension lining every muscle of his body. An agonizing minute passed in that crackling silence, waiting for Spock’s rebuttal.  
  
“The commanding officer is the one that is most capable of making such decisions with regards to his fellow members of Starfleet that fall under his command. Therefore, it was necessary for him to be present in case other such decisions had to be made. It was logical.”  
  
“It’s not logical!” Jim cried, eyes imploring Spock to understand. “Two good Vulcans were lost that way, two Vulcans that didn’t necessarily have to die! Surely there was something else that could have been done, something else that _should_ have been done, Spock! They could have tried to boost the engines, could have tried to dump more machinery, _anything_. Who cares if it was logical- he didn’t have to face their families and tell them what happened, that they were lost under his command; he just sent them letters! How could he find it in himself to leave them behind, Spock? That coldness, that cruelty…” Jim gestured at Spock, the motion helpless. “How can you condone it?”  
  
“We are Vulcan,” Spock said finally, and there was a terrible ancient weight to those words that hammered against Jim‘s nerves. “We do not take the loss of life lightly. If those lives were lost, they were lost to allow the others to live. Ensign T’Pronn and Lieutenant Sivil would have been aware of that, would have stepped aside knowing that their deaths would allow the others to prosper. They would have done so willingly, Jim. Commander Stival would never have asked it of them unless there was no other choice. It was not coldness or cruelty, but an acknowledgment of stark reality. Lives were going to be lost that day no matter what, and therefore it was only logical to weight those lives against one another to prevent the maximum amount of death. I assure you, as I did earlier, that the decision was not made lightly. We have…we lost too much life in the olden days and found joy in it. We were a warrior people then, in the days before Surak, as you well know.”  
  
“I do,” Jim said quietly, something tight in his chest easing ever so slightly. He opened his mouth to respond to the dry heat in Spock’s voice, to the strength, but Spock spoke over him, implacable. He stood as he spoke, and Jim couldn’t recall ever feeling like Spock was that much taller than he was before. It was strange; they were of a height, but Spock seemed like he was looming over Jim.  
  
“In those days, Vulcans did not take prisoners. Instead, they took pleasure without caring whose pain resulted, took mates regardless of their prior attachments, took hatred and forged it into a weapon of its own. They did not believe in mercy. They lived on anger and the blood of their enemies. They lived by the shield and the sword. And from that way of life we nearly destroyed ourselves so completely that to this day we have an echo of that ancient rage etched on our _katra_.” Spock stepped forward as he spoke, dark eyes drawing in Jim. They were nearly pressed up against one another, and Jim’s pulse thundered in his veins. His anger hadn’t subsided, but desire was curling around it now, hot and needy, and Jim wanted to kiss Spock to make him shut up, tear the rest of his defense apart with teeth and lips and tongue so Spock would submit to him and agree that he was wrong.  
  
Spock didn’t know why he was walking forward, didn’t know why he was pressing so closely into Jim’s personal space, but the words about Vulcan’s history, Vulcan’s ancient peoples came almost pouring out of his mouth without his volition. Jim was close now, closer than Spock had ever been to anyone before, and Jim’s body was delightfully cool compared to the heat of his own. This close, he could see the tiny scar across his jaw that Jim said had been from the family cat when he was seven, the way his lips parted as he inhaled sharply, the way Jim’s throat moved as he swallowed. Those blue eyes that Spock had found so entrancing for their uniqueness on Vulcan when they first met glittered in the light of the room. Spock was close, close enough that all it would take was a tilt of the head, the slightest motion forward and Spock could kiss Jim, finally feel those rough lips against his own and plunder his mouth, taking Jim’s capitulation from the argument.  
  
The last thought made Spock rear back, as he tried to think with his brain and not with his genitals. Without so much as a farewell, Spock left the room with twice his usual speed, needing desperately to get out of the room and understand how a heated debate as to the relative merits of Vulcan command had turned into Spock desiring nothing more than to take Jim as his shield mate, as his _t’hy’la_ and bond them through all things, to take Jim’s pliant body as his own. Spock lifted a shaking hand to his lips as he stood out in the garden, staring at the flowers that his mother had so carefully taken care of without seeing so much as a single petal, wondering desperately what had just happened.  
  
Jim stared after Spock, trying to pull his brain back online. “What the fuck just happened?” he asked the air. The familiar feel of arousal and desire slowly leeched out of his body as he stared out the door that Spock had disappeared from without seeing so much as a hair of the half-Vulcan. The arousal and desire didn’t frighten him; they were too familiar, and sometimes it felt like there were entire days where Jim felt them constantly. But here, in Spock’s room in the middle of a fucking argument that Jim had never been more serious about in his entire life, he wasn‘t supposed to be aroused, he wasn’t supposed to want to crush Spock‘s lips under his, he wasn‘t supposed to want to feel Spock‘s heat over him, around him, in him. It was one thing to have an attraction to Spock; Jim could admit that his bondmate was smoking hot and there was no denying it. But here and now, when they were at each other’s throats, he wasn’t supposed to throw his hatred for their situation to the wings and follow his heart.  
  
Oh god. Follow his heart. What was happening to him? He wasn’t some bleeding heart romantic that had fallen in love against all odds with the half-Vulcan that was his unwitting captor. He was supposed to want to run away from this place as far as he could as early as he could, so he could go out into the black and never come back unless he wanted to. He was supposed to be free as a bird and take the stars as his own, he was supposed to challenge so that Spock didn’t bond with him, he was supposed to take whatever steps he had to in order to be his own person.  
  
He was supposed to love Gary.  
  
But no, that wasn’t right either, was it? He’d been in some of the same introductory courses as Gary, and they had fun together. They’d been casual at first, the occasional night of sex when they had no one else. They had fun, they laughed, and they were more compatible with each other than they were with anyone else out of their circle of friends. It had seemed natural that they would gravitate towards each other. It wasn’t love though, and they hadn’t ever said that it would be or that it should be. They were a casual way to pass the time because they genuinely liked each other. Or perhaps it would be better to say that they loved each other but weren’t in love, Jim mused, rubbing his fingers over his lips absently before the phantom of Spock’s heat returned.  
  
Spock though…Spock was completely different from him in most of the ways that counted when it came to relationships. Yet still Jim couldn’t help but be drawn to his dry sense of humor, his fierce intelligence that made even Jim work to keep up instead of waiting for others, even Gary, to catch up to him. Spock, who made Jim want to fight every person that had ever treated him poorly. Spock who was, to coin a phrase, _fascinating_ , Spock who was passionate and emotional and gentle even if he refused to admit it.  
  
Spock, who wasn’t Human or Vulcan but something entirely unique that was simultaneously both and neither that made Jim itch with the urge to make him smile with his eyes, make him happy, help him with his research, protect him and…  
  
And…  
  
Jim stopped there, stopped himself from going too far because once he thought it there was no going back, no unknowing such revelations. So instead he slowly left Spock’s room, feeling like an intruder, a charlatan, a fool and the worst kind of traitor imaginable. He sucked in a slow breath to steady himself.  
  
Spock’s Time could not come too soon, because only then could Jim bring things to a conclusion- one way or another. 


	8. Chapter 8

“Jim, are you prepared?” Spock would never do something so crass as shout for Jim’s attention, so instead he climbed the stairs and stood in front of Jim’s room, leaning in to catch his bondmate‘s attention.  
  
Jim, who was in the process of putting on deodorant, yelped, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally he had no problem with people admiring his body; he knew perfectly well that his blue eyes, his abs, his tanned skin were all excellent reasons to stare, more so for the fact that Vulcans were pretty much the complete opposite, physically, with mostly black or dark brown hair and eyes and pale skin. With the way that things had been the last couple of weeks after that argument, however, Jim wasn’t totally comfortable with the very idea that Spock might be looking at him.  
  
Jim had been here for just over two Earth months total, and after eight weeks straight spending near constant time with Spock, he thought that he knew the half-Vulcan well. He knew Spock’s favorite dishes and how to make them, he knew the expression that Spock made when Jim called him out on being emotional and reassured him that he liked him the way he was. He knew about Spock’s research and was often able to help him, and Spock in turn helped him with his class.  
  
Then that argument, that…whatever it was, because it had gone from an argument over the moral values of the Vulcan and Terran societies to some sort of near-make-out _thing_ that Jim didn’t know or want to know how to quantify. It was as if the debate that had changed something in their relationship, from just a mildly awkward friendship into something that was genuinely comfortable and sweet and passionate and…and filled with all sorts of other words and phrases and _emotions_ that Jim just didn’t dare use, because that would be too much like admitting that he might be doing the wrong thing, and the guilt was already threatening to overwhelm him. It was at the point that Jim had to speak to or spend time with Gary once every few days to be reminded of why he was going to challenge Spock.  
  
Gary tried to burn the reasons into Jim’s skin with marks from nips, from sucking, from kisses and bites. Yet every mark seemed to be obliterated by the heat from Spock’s touch, scrambling Jim‘s brains quite effectively. “Yeah, sorry Spock,” Jim said belatedly, realizing that he’d been silent for far too long. “Give me about another five minutes, and I’m all yours.” At the words, a blush spread across Jim’s face and down his neck. “You know what I mean,” Jim finished with a weak chuckle, and the blush intensified the more that he spoke, hoping desperately that Spock wouldn‘t catch the innuendo.  
  
“Very well,” Spock said quietly, and left Jim alone to get ready, trying to keep down the green color that he knew was threatening to spread across his own body in response to the pink flush covering Jim’s. He passed his mother on the stairs and absently nodded at her in greeting without starting a conversation with her; he was more concerned with the way Jim had blushed when Spock had walked into his room. Spock had been unsure as to whether the red of Jim’s skin would appeal, but Spock found it very appealing indeed, and it had long since become a consistent, underlying urge to kiss Jim whenever the blush surfaced, which was not nearly often enough for Spock’s taste.  
  
As he sat at the kitchen table, staring at his PADD absently instead of doing the work that he had intended to do while waiting for Jim, Spock felt a sense of guilt and embarrassment rising in his chest, and he was instantly ashamed for feeling the emotions in the first place. Jim had a way of undermining all of his control, getting under his skin in a way that no one had been able to in over a decade, since that day when the other students had been successful in making him rise to their insults. Unlike with those bullies, however, Spock never felt like he was being degraded in Jim’s presence. Instead, the Human was beginning to take both his Vulcan exterior and the emotions that sometimes rose to the surface despite Spock’s best efforts in stride. It made Spock feel a soft glow of happiness that he couldn’t find it in him to quash; instead, he basked in it, having only truly felt it in the presence of his parents and Sokal before. It truly felt like Jim was accepting him for the being that he was, and such an unconditional friendship was quickly winning Spock over.  
  
However, it was that very affection that Jim had been showering on Spock that made him feel his guilt. That affection, the joy that Spock felt while doing even the most simple of activities with Jim were the very things that made Spock want to ask Jim to say. He’d had the urge before, easily restrained and blamed on the rising tide of _plak tow_ in his very bones. His urge to take, and mate, and make Jim his forever so that he was ruined for others was a primal instinct that could be explained. They were carnal urges that Spock could ignore, even if Spock‘s muscles sometimes clenched with the effort it took to restrain himself.  
  
Less easy to ignore was Spock’s simple desire to wake up next to Jim, to exchange a slow kiss in the morning. Spock wanted to please Jim in simple ways, by making the dry statements that made Jim laugh so richly that Jim had to wipe tears from his eyes or by making him groan with appreciation by making him Amanda’s special lemonade. He didn’t want to take Jim’s body and everything he was in those mental images; instead, Spock wanted to give himself over to Jim’s desire and pleasure, to make him feel pleasure and to feel it in turn. Such simple things, things that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with a different kind of desire. They could not be dismissed or ignored, and though he’d tried to attribute them to the slow onset of _plak tow_ , Spock knew that he was only attempting to lie to himself, illogical though it was.  
  
And Spock had never been one to lie to himself.  
  
It was those things that made Spock want to ask Jim to stay here on Vulcan. And then came the guilt, flooding his system in an unstoppable deluge at the very thought of asking Jim to live out his life on Vulcan. He’d told Jim all along that he wasn’t going to be forced to stay here. Jim had a life at Starfleet, had a life on Earth that Spock wasn’t a part of. Spock couldn’t ask Jim to stay here on Vulcan and spend his time at Spock’s beck and call. Jim belonged out there in the stars, where his charisma could stop wars, help forge treaties, could broker peace for entire nations. Jim, who looked at the stars as though they were his entire life wouldn’t even consider staying around to cater to Spock’s needs, and Spock didn’t dare ask it of him. To do so would to be to do the universe a grave disservice. No, Jim would return to Starfleet as was right.  
  
Besides, why would he want to stay with Spock? Spock was a half-blood, someone who fit neither into the world of Vulcan nor of Earth, and there was an enormous difference between calling someone a colleague or even a friend, and asking them to give up their entire life for you. Jim, who had a future so much wider than the work that Spock would be doing, couldn’t possibly be interested in staying. Spock was envious too, envious of the fact that Jim was in Starfleet. In Starfleet, Jim would have the opportunity to go out into the stars simply to see what was out there, to meet the people of a hundred different worlds and learn their cultures and their sciences and their interests. Spock wanted a taste of that, of the larger universe instead of the insular world that was Vulcan. He’d allowed himself to be talked out of attending Starfleet after the Council had insulted his mother by calling her a disadvantage, but it was something that he still regretted, something that still colored how everyone at the VSA looked at him. Spock didn’t want that stigma to be attached to Jim, to brilliant, beautiful and charming Jim who deserved to have the world as his oyster.  
  
Jim, who was currently coming down the stairs with that mischievous look on his face that informed Spock quite neatly that his plans were about to be derailed and there was nothing that he would be able to do about it. Indeed, the moment that Jim had finished his journey down the steps he planted one hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow in a poor imitation of Spock. “How concrete are your plans for this afternoon?” Jim waggled his eyebrows dramatically.  
  
“They are not concrete at all. As they involve a garden, I would imagine that they are comparatively quite soft,” Spock said, a very slight wrinkle in his brow. “Unless you are asking if it is mandatory that we visit the gardens of Shi’Kahr, in which case no, it is not mandatory. Do you have another idea in mind that you would find more fascinating?”  
  
“I just might,” Jim said with a cheeky smile, sliding into the seat next to Spock. “How do you feel about doing some shopping?”  
  
“Shopping?” Spock said flatly. “Shopping for what?” He had no interest in going to watch Jim look for clothing or similar accoutrements. To borrow a phrase from his mother, it was not his cup of tea.  
  
Jim’s brilliant eyes became even brighter, something that Spock had previously thought was impossible. There was something of a mask about Jim’s face, however, that set Spock ill at ease; his face wasn’t as open as normal, and Spock could detect that thin shiver of trepidation in the air that would indicate that Jim was anxious over something. “Books, of course! Physical ones, physical paperback- or hardcover, if you so choose- books. You seemed so interested in my books when I first met you, that I thought it would be a good idea. I took a look on my PADD, and I found there‘s a little place near the outskirts of the city that does a book trade, as well as some work in other antiques.” Jim bit his lip, not quite meeting Spock‘s eyes. “Is that alright?”  
  
“That sounds like an acceptable plan,” Spock acquiesced, relaxing just a touch now that he knew the details. Jim relaxed in response, and Spock assumed that the trepidation he’d sensed earlier was the result of Jim’s uncertainty as to whether Spock would agree or not. Spock suspected that he knew the very book and antique shop that Jim had found, since it was only one of five in the city that dealt with such items, though Spock had never been to a shop in the location that Jim had described.  
  
“I figured. You didn’t really strike me as a roses-and-lilies kind of guy. Or whatever the local flora equivalent is,” Jim admitted, and then paused, thinking the better of his comment. “Though, um, it’s fine if you are.”  
  
“I do not possess the,” Spock searched his memory for a moment before recalling the phrase his mother had once used, “green thumb necessary to appreciate the greenery present in the gardens of Shi’Kahr. It is a famous sight within the city, however, and one that is particularly pleasing to my mother. She tried to teach me as a child how to tend to greenery.”  
  
“From your tone, I’m guessing that went about as well as when you tried to learn to cook.”  
  
Spock inclined his head. “Indeed. Therefore, I will take no offense if we choose to go elsewhere.”  
  
“I‘m not that big a fan of flowers either. I guess we’re two peas in a pod in that sense,” Jim winked, clearly have make some sort of joke, so Spock raised an eyebrow. “So let’s do something more fun, eh?” Jim said. “I got directions to a local bookstore, and from the looks of it, it shouldn’t take us more than half an hour. Well, half an hour Earth time.” Jim shook his head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to thinking of an hour and a half as an hour; even Starfleet command works on a twenty four hour system since so many planets fall around that twenty four hour mark for their day. It’s the hour system that tends to get wonky. You’ve got hours that are fifteen Earth minutes and two hundred Earth minutes.” Jim shrugged, and as if he’d just realized that he’d been rambling about time, of all things, he shut his mouth with a _clack_.  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Very well. If you are comfortable with being out in the Vulcan sun for that amount of time, I will join you. I would recommend extensive sun protection even though the sun has just recently risen. It is considerably stronger than the Earth’s sun.”  
  
Jim rolled his eyes a little, mouth forming a pout. “I know, I know. You only remind me every time we plan to go outside and spent time out there.” Spock raised his eyebrow even further, and Jim flushed a little. “Okay, so there was that one time when I got fried pretty badly. But it was one time!”  
  
“You blistered within twelve hours, Jim. Your skin is extraordinarily sensitive to the Vulcan sun as you are Human.” Spock reprimanded.  
  
The man in question stretched out his arms. “Firstly, I put on the strongest sun screen I‘ve got this time around, so don’t worry about that. Secondly, I might have burned, but it turned into a tan,” Jim twisted his arms back and forth, demonstrating that the severe burn had indeed turned into a deep tan. “That being said, I wouldn’t want to do it ever again. I forgot how much being burnt hurts, and it can‘t possibly be good for me. I haven’t had a bad burn like that since I went to Florida when I was ten with my parents. I had to go to the hospital because I went for a walk down the beach, got lost and ended up absolutely fried! But anyways, if you want to go down to the bookstore, we ought to head over now while it‘s not too bad.”  
  
Spock nodded, gathering his things while Jim stuck his wallet in his pocket. Jim smiled at the familiar figure of Spock with his bag slung over one shoulder. Spock looked at Jim, those dark eyes questioning, but Jim just shook his head. “I’m ready whenever you are,” Jim said with an expansive gesture.  
  
“I need only to put on my shoes, and I will be ready,” Spock returned, and after alerting Amanda as to their destination, they were on their way. Exactly thirty five minutes later, they reached the bookstore, _Stonn’s Books and Antiques_. Not a terribly imaginative name, in Jim’s opinion, but it was fitting considering the fact that a Vulcan owned and operated the store. The storefront was well maintained, with the name in large white letters in the old-style glass pane window.  
  
It was pleasantly cool inside by Jim’s standards, though Spock shivered as he stepped inside. Jim took in a deep breath, luxuriating in the smell of paper and lemon that filled the store. “Are you alright?” Jim said, coming forward and hovering around Spock, unsure as to what to do.  
  
“It is not necessary for you to help me,” Spock informed Jim, pulling a jacket out of his bag and putting it on in one smooth movement. “In order to prevent the antiques from being damaged, it is often kept cooler in these buildings, as I have learned from past experience.”  
  
“Oh. That’s good,” Jim said with obvious relief and then tried to stop himself from fretting over the details, from asking if Spock needed a hat or gloves to make sure his sensitive hands and ears were covered. Instead, Jim nodded awkwardly for a moment. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”  
  
Spock paused for a moment and then slowly, “I had been operating under the assumption that you had something in mind when you suggested that we come here. I have no plans to purchase anything today.”  
  
“Oh,” Jim murmured. “Well, I guess we should just wander around and see what we find. Sound good?”  
  
“That is acceptable.” Spock left then, to wander down the aisle he was standing beside. Jim stared after him, and smiled to himself, shaking his head a little. _That’s typical Spock behavior_ , Jim thought with an internal chuckle, unable to stop the fondness that washed over him. _Abrupt and to the point_. Then the smile dropped off his face. _I wish he’d thought to tell me, though, instead of me being forced to rely on Amanda. Hell, I should have put things together myself. I certainly saw the date enough when I was getting missives from the Vulcan government_. Jim’s lips thinned and then followed Spock’s lead beginning to wander through the shelves.  
  
It was one of the best stocked stores that Jim had ever encountered, with thousands of books carefully organized and placed on shelves within the comparatively little shop. Every genre of book had been covered as well, from traditional Vulcan texts to law books to books published as recently as fifty years ago; paper books had died in popularity the last hundred and fifty years or so because of the trees that were used to make them. As a result, publishers had looked into paper substitutes, like specially made plastics that had the same feel as true paper. It was easier and cheaper for people simply to download the book onto their PADD, and a majority of the people did so, but there were a few, Jim included, who found that the paper- or paper substitutes- between his fingers gave an added experience to reading. He’d always been a tactile person, and he absolutely adored the sensation of the soft paper between his fingers.  
  
As Jim perused the shelves, Jim was surprised at how many books were present; the proprietor had to be doing not only interplanetary but intraplanetary business to have this many books in the ship. Before long, Jim had three books that he couldn’t live to bear without and mental list of another seven or eight that he was considering. It was all well and good, however, but buying books for himself hadn’t been his plan in coming here. He hadn’t found perfect book thus far for his purposes, however, so Jim applied himself to the task once more, wandering up and down the aisles with an almost absentminded air.  
  
“I see that you have found four books,” Spock said from behind him, and Jim jumped.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Jim said, and then blinked, looking at his pile. Last time he’d looked at the books in his arms, there had only been three, but he wasn’t overly worried. Books had a tendency to spontaneously appear in his arms and demand that he buy them. “I see that you’ve got books too,” Jim noticed. “What have you picked out?”  
  
Spock showed Jim the cover of the first: _Kae'at K'lasa t’T’Mival_ by Salok. Jim, who had been learning Vulcan his entire life, even if he didn’t know all the proper connotations of each word, knew what the title translated to. Even beyond that, however, Jim knew the Mind-Rape of T’Mival as well as any other person on Vulcan or on Earth. It was a famous case from just over seven hundred years ago that had gained considerable press due to the fact that the rapist had been a Human with exceptionally high ESP that had somehow managed to force a meld. There was a great deal of mystery around the subject, though the Vulcans liked to pretend that wasn’t the case, because no one had been able to tell how Gregory McMillan had forced the meld due to the fact that T’Mival had died twenty four hours after the attack. “Somber reading,” Jim said quietly.  
  
“Perhaps, but an interesting case nevertheless. I thought you might be interested in reading it when you have the opportunity, because it details quite clearly the laws concerning telepathy and why they are so in a personal manner that other texts do not. It is generally dismissed for that very emotion, but I thought that it may make the text more appealing.” Spock explained. Jim nodded. Though Spock had taken the time to both teach him the details of Vulcan telepathy, the rules concerning the use of it and why those rules were in place, Jim had found it to be both a frightening and exhilarating aspect of Spock’s anatomy that he was largely content to ignore, illogical though it was.  
  
Spock then revealed the other title, which was _The Martian Chronicles_ by Ray Bradbury. Jim let out a tiny sigh of relief at the second title, glad it wasn’t as heavy as the first. _Though_ , Jim admitted, that wasn’t entirely true. _It’s heavy, just in a different way from his first choice_. “Have you read that collection before?” Jim asked.  
  
“No, though I have read _Fahrenheit 451_. I find it fascinating that so many of your authors choose to focus on dystopia, as it is refers to on Earth. _1984, The Giver_ and _A Brave New World_ are all stories that contain strong elements of dystopia within a so-called utopian society,” Spock explained. “Have you read _The Martian Chronicles_?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Jim said absently, mind racing. “My favorites are _The Green Morning_ and _There Will Come Soft Rains_. They’re all very interesting, though. There’s something about the way Bradbury writes that makes you really think about things that don’t actually have anything to do with the topic of the story, but I do love his work. It’s complex. Yes, that’s the right word, complex. I think you’ll enjoy it too.”  
  
“What books have you chosen?” Spock returned politely.  
  
Jim looked on the verge of saying something and then held up a finger. “Actually, Spock, can you hold that thought? I just want to go check something.”  
  
“Very well,” Spock said, a touch of confusion coloring his words.  
  
Jim rushed off, glancing at the shelves to see if he could find the book and anthology he was thinking of. When he found both of the books, Jim smiled broadly and made his way through the tall shelves back to Spock. “Sorry about that,” Jim said a bit breathlessly, excitement lighting up his face. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to find out that it wasn’t here.”  
  
“What books were you searching for?” Spock asked curiously, leaning forward to peer at the books.  
  
Jim positively yelped, moving out of range of Spock and covering the books protectively. Spock stilled, looking up at Jim, eyes a touch wider than normal. They stood like that for a guarded moment, neither of them willing to be the first to move. Spock was still as a statue, with barely the rise and fall of his chest to indicate that he was in fact alive. Jim, on the other hand, clutched the books in his arms to his chest, knuckles white from his tight grip. His breathing was rapid and shallow, his mouth open in an expression of surprise.  
  
“Jim, have I made a mistake?” Spock asked after the silence had long since stretched to breaking point. Spock’s voice was carefully neutral in that guarded way that Jim hated, because it meant that he’d done something wrong.  
  
He hastened to reassure Spock. “No, no it’s nothing you did, I swear, it’s just that…” Jim bit his lip, trailing off. “There isn’t anything that you want to tell me?” he asked a bit desperately, leaning forward. The books nearly overbalanced in his hands and Jim had to jerk his arms back in order to keep them from spilling across the floor. However, the books were no longer sitting flush against another and they began to slip through his arms.  
  
Spock, moving faster than Jim had thought possible, reached down to snatch the books from the air before they could hit the ground. Jim let out a quick breath, a thank you on his lips when he realized that Spock was now looking at the very books that he’d worked so hard to hide from him. Jim knelt next to Spock, taking the books from Spock’s hands and stacking them on top of the books that’d he’d placed on the flat surface formed by his thighs when he sat back on his heels.  
  
“Well, I supposed it’s too late now,” Jim said, shaking his head sadly. “If I’d been given some prior warning, I could have probably found the chance to do it on my own, but…” Jim sighed a little. He took the two books he’d gone back to pick up and handed them over to Spock, hands trembling a little as he did so. “I thought you would have given me the heads up. Instead, it fell to your mom. Of course, I couldn’t not get anything for you. That’s rude, for starters, but you’re…” Jim swallowed, but continued to meet Spock’s dark eyes. “You’re my bondmate and my friend. I couldn’t just do nothing for your birthday.”  
  
There was a beat of silence, in which Spock’s eyebrows attempted to make their escape from his face by climbing into his hairline. It struck Jim as hilariously funny for some strange reason, and he couldn’t stop a tiny giggle that made him slap a hand over his mouth to keep more from escaping. “My birthday?” Spock said, and there was a note of surprise in his voice. “Yes, today is the date of my birth on Vulcan, thirty years by the Vulcan calendar, twenty-three point seven nine in Earth years. However, Vulcans do not celebrate their birth yearly as many Terran cultures do,” Spock explained slowly. “It is not necessary to get me a gift in celebration.”  
  
Jim tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Spock, it’s your _birthday_ ,” Jim said a second time, as though Spock needed reminding. He put more stress on the word birthday, but Spock wasn’t sure what Jim was attempting to indicate by doing so.  
  
“Yes,” Spock agreed. “It is in fact my birthday today. That does not necessitate the giving of gifts.” Spock thought for a second or two, “It is true that my mother celebrates by giving me a gift, but she is from Earth and claims that it is her prerogative as my mother to do so. I do not know the rules when it comes to others. Is it not traditional for family only to celebrate with the giving of gifts?”  
  
Jim shook his head, and seated himself on the floor, leaning against the bookshelf and indicating that Spock should do the same. “When it comes to birthdays, family, friends and significant others often give the person a gift. It’s a congratulatory gesture, mostly, to say that when you entered this world, something changed. We changed, our lives changed. It’s to show that we’re happy that we know you, that we are proud of you, that we’re here for you. We want to acknowledge your accomplishments. It’s probably more emotional than you’re comfortable with, but there you have it,” Jim told Spock.  
  
Spock settled himself neatly besides Jim, long, supple limbs arranging themselves carefully and with minimum fuss. He looked at the books in his hands, the ones chosen by Jim. “You truly consider us friends?” Spock asked finally, which was not the question that Jim had been expected.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Jim said. He shifted, leaning forward so he could see Spock’s expression. He placed a hand on Spock’s knee for a second or two, and though Spock tensed, he didn’t move away from Jim. Just as Spock was on the verge of saying something, Jim removed his hand and sat back, staring at the books opposite him without actually seeing them. “I’ll be honest, Spock, I didn’t come here with high hopes. When my parents told me that I should come here and get to know you, I wasn’t exactly sure what they expected to happen. I mean, I was just planning to survive these past couple of months. I didn’t think we’d get along at all, let alone as well as we have, even if we did have a couple of hiccups along the way. You’re intelligent, kind, passionate, fascinating-” Jim stopped himself. It was one thing to explain himself, another thing entirely to start spilling his guts in the middle of a bookstore, especially considering that Jim wasn’t exactly going to be sticking around.  
  
“So anyways,” Jim said in an obvious effort to change the subject, “have you read either of those books?”  
  
Spock, who had been paying far more attention to Jim’s words than the books that Jim had tried to hide, looked down at them. Both books were truly old, with carefully restored covers and fragile pages. Spock opened the cover of the first book, running a gentle finger down the edge as he took in the little bit of gilt that had been added to the title on the inside.  
  
“ _Peter Pan_ ,” Spock murmured, and there was something about his voice that was reverent in a way that Jim couldn’t help but approve of. Books like _Peter Pan_ deserved to be treated with a little bit of reverence. “I have not read this novel before, though I have heard of it and know the basic plotline.”  
  
Jim’s eyes were distant as he said, “J.M. Barrie managed to capture innocence pretty damn well, I like to think, with all the trials and tribulations that come with it.” Jim ran a finger down the page as well, letting the finger come to rest a hair’s breadth from Spock’s own digit. Jim spoke in a whisper as he leaned in towards Spock, words ghosting along his ear, resonating in his body. “Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremor ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, ‘To die will be an awfully big adventure’.”  
  
That sat in that moment, letting the words wash over them. Neither wanted the moment to end, but all moments must, and this one broke when Spock shifted minutely. Jim pulled his arm back, hand brushing Spock’s arm, taking delight in the tiny shudder that escaped the half-Vulcan. Jim continued to sit close to Spock, bodies nearly touching, and watched with hooded eyes as Spock carefully closed the book once more and looked at the cover of the other book that he’d been handed.  
  
Spock’s eyes warmed when he saw the cover, so subtle a motion that Jim nearly missed it. He would have missed it, earlier, but he found that Spock was easy to decipher if Jim was paying attention. His eyes, especially, showed everything that his face fought to hide. “Alice laughed, ‘There's no use trying,’ she said, ‘one can't believe impossible things.’   
‘I daresay you haven't had much practice,’ said the Queen. ‘When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast’.” Spock glanced at Jim from beneath his lashes, and there was something positively impish about the look, though nothing concrete that Jim could actually call him on.  
  
Jim laughed at that, low and sweet and absolutely delighted. “I’ve done a fair number of impossible things in my time,” Jim said, and his eyes were dancing. “Impossible things are the only things worth doing. _Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There_ is something that everyone should read at some point during their lives. There’s nothing like a good dose of nonsense verse to get you through the morning,” Jim teased. “I used to drive my mom practically up the wall. She gave me the book for my sixth birthday, and then spent the next two years trying to stop me from reciting the Jabberwocky poem at least once a week. I think by the end of it all, she knew the poem better than I did.” There was that laugh again, bubbling up in Jim’s chest and filling the space between them.  
  
“Lewis Carroll is one of my mother’s favorite authors. When I was young, she too recited Jabberwocky,” Spock added. “In fact, she read the entire story to me when I was four years and seven months old. She does not have a physical copy, however, only one on her PADD.”  
  
“Alright, hand those books over and we’ll pay, and then I can give the books to you tonight when your mom brings out the cake she said she was going to make. I‘m pretty excited- I love cake,” Jim said as he stood, and offered a hand to Spock. Spock took it after a moment of hesitation, eyes growing a little darker as Jim gripped his hand and hauled him up. Spock let go as soon as he was once more upright, that familiar green flush coloring his face ever so slightly.  
  
“My mother bakes a honey almond cake every year for this occasion. Do you enjoy almonds?” Spock inquired.  
  
“Yeah, almonds are the one nut that I’m not deathly allergic too, actually. Peanuts, walnuts, pecans, Andorian chestnuts and pretty much every other nut you could possibly name are all lethal, but almonds are fair game. It’s the strangest thing,” Jim said absently. He turned to go down the aisle and find Stonn, presumably the Vulcan who owned the store, but stopped when Spock didn’t follow him. “Come on, let’s head out. It’s roasting hot out there, and if we’re going to be walking back, the sooner the better. Thank God I wore my lightest pair of shorts.”  
  
When Spock didn’t respond, Jim walked back to him. “Spock?” Jim queried, face open.  
  
“Why?” Spock breathed, and there were no pretenses masking the plaintive word. Jim had been eloquent earlier, had spoken of friendship and tradition and the right thing to do. Spock wanted to cut to the heart of the matter- he didn’t want platitudes. Spock had reassured Jim since the first day of their acquaintance that there would be no lasting ties beyond once every seven years in order to sate Spock’s Time. Spock knew that when his mother had mentioned Spock’s birthday to Jim, she would have mentioned specifically that there was no need to get Spock anything, especially because Spock knew that Amanda was grateful enough that Jim was going to save her son’s life. Still Jim had gone out of his way to pick something that would bring Spock pleasure, however much Spock might pretend that he was above such things.  
  
“But I told you,” Jim protested, trying to bluff his way out.  
  
Spock stared at Jim, not fooled in the least and willing to wait Jim out. Jim was experienced too, however, and wasn’t about to give away anything more than he absolutely had to.  
  
“You may have been truthful, but it was not the whole truth, Jim,” Spock chastised.   
  
“Then here’s the whole truth. Because,” Jim answered with a flirtatious wink.  
  
Spock wanted to protest that ‘because’ wasn’t a true answer, but something about Jim’s expression told him that, for now, because was enough, because was all the answer that Jim was going to give, the only answer he _could_ give at the moment. Spock nodded, just once, short and sharp, meeting Jim’s eyes the entire time.  
  
Jim cleared his throat and waved Spock forward. “Come on, let’s go now. I can’t give you your books until I pay for them. Actually, you can’t get them until I wrap them up in…I don’t know, paper towels or something so you can rip open the wrapping like in a proper gift. Opening the gifts is half the fun, of course. My mom complained that when I was a kid, the wrapping and boxes that the presents came in were more interesting than the presents themselves.”  
  
Within minutes, they were back out in the hot sun. Jim shaded his eyes from the light, squinting. “I don’t know how you can stand to be out the sun.” He caught Spock out of the corner of his eye, but Spock hadn’t made a single move to take off his jacket. Instead, Spock’s face was turned towards the sun, his eyes shut, clearly basking in the sunlight.  
  
“Vulcans have adapted to it,” Spock stated. “Unlike Humans, we do not produce melanin in response to the sunlight. Instead, our nuclei have become naturally thicker in order to protect our DNA. It is for that reason that we do not tan, though we do burn if exposed to excess sunlight. Our natural higher body temperatures help us in regards to being able to stand a higher ambient temperature as well.”  
  
“Alright, it’s our day off,” Jim complained. “No science. My brain has officially been turned off for the day, and it‘s not coming back online any time soon.” He paused for a moment. “Though it is your birthday, and that gives you free reign to do whatever you want.”  
  
“Even lie, cheat and steal?” Spock asked, straight-faced. Jim’s mouth dropped open, eyes going wide as he took in what Spock had just said.   
  
“What?” Jim cried, shocked. He stared at Spock as though the half-Vulcan had grown another head. Once the words had sunk in, however, Jim practically doubled over laughing. “Really, if you keep insisting that you don’t have a sense of humor, you can cross the first item off your list there.”  
  
“Vulcans do not have a sense of humor,” Spock insisted, but it was a lackluster insistence at best.  
  
“Methinks the Vulcan doth protest too much,” Jim retorted cheerily. “You are a shameless, shameless liar, and I shall inform your mother.”  
  
“Lying is not a criminal offense.”  
  
“But it is a moral one.”  
  
“Lying is illogical. Vulcans do not lie.”  
  
“Pah! Now you’re just lying about lying.”  
  
Spock shook his head, sensing that prolonging the discussion would result in no true conclusion. “Hah! I win!” Jim declared with pride.  
  
“Win what?” Spock questioned.  
  
Jim opened his mouth, and the words, “A kiss,” nearly escaped, but he managed to bite them back at the very last second, trying to understand why he‘d had that thought in the first place. “Can I get a rain check on that? When I think of what I want, I’ll tell you. Fair enough?”  
  
Spock wasn’t sure what Jim would end up desiring, but whatever Jim wanted, Spock would do his best to grant it. With a brief inclination of his head, Spock answered, “Fair enough.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Jimmy, I feel like we haven’t talked to you in forever!” His mother cried the instant he brought up his vid on the console, smile lighting up her face. For once, Jim didn‘t dread answering the call, as he would have even three months ago. Actually being on Vulcan had somehow managed to repair the relationship between him and his parents against all odds, though he still wasn‘t entirely sure how he felt about the fact that they‘d willingly allowed him to be bonded to Spock. He couldn’t hate Spock anymore, not since he’d actually met the half-Vulcan, but that didn’t magically make things all better, not with Spock and not with his parents. “It was bad enough when you were in San Francisco and Starfleet, and only got worse when, well…” It was clear she wasn’t quite sure how to bring up the fact that Jim had flatly refused to so much as call- or accept a call from- his family for a year. A spark of fire entered his mother’s eyes, and she finally said bluntly, “Well, when we stopped talking. Even so, before that we could only see you every couple of months when your father stopped by to have his meetings with Starfleet Command about how the work on the Enterprise was going. With you on Vulcan and Sam on the colony on Europa, I haven’t been able to really talk with either of you, and I miss you. How are you doing, darling? How is Spock? What had you been up to?”  
  
“Relax, relax,” Jim said, smiling a little at her eagerness. “Are you going to let me answer any of those questions, or are you just going to fire off questions until you exhaust yourself?”  
  
“Probably the second one,” his mother said without a trace of embarrassment. She propped her head on one head, loose blond hair that was just beginning to gain grey streaks falling over her shoulder. Even so, the resumed contact with her son had made the years fall away from here, and her hazel eyes glittered. “Well, come on, don’t leave me in suspense.”  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. “In order, I’m fine, mostly just attending class and hanging out. I’ve done some of the touristy things, as well as a little book shopping. I haven’t been able to convince Spock to go rock climbing with me, which is a damn shame because there are some great cliffs in the area, surprisingly enough. As for Spock, he’s doing fine, as far as I can tell. Vulcan‘s aren‘t really big about giving away unnecessary information, so I mostly have to guess and hope that I‘m right,” Jim debated for a moment about adding more, but Jim had never been the sort to discuss his love life- or rather, the complicated mess that was currently masquerading as his love life- with his parents, even in the vaguest of terms. “Well, that wasn’t actually in order, but the points still stand. I hope you weren’t looking for exciting news or anything. It _is_ Vulcan, after all.”  
  
Jim’s mother shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be exciting for it to be fun. Come on, surely you’ve been doing something interesting.”  
  
“Well, Spock’s birthday was ten days ago, so that nice. Spock didn’t give me the heads up though- it ended up being his mom that let me know. And before you say anything, Mom, I know I probably should have been keeping an eye on that myself, but between everything else, it slipped my mind completely. Besides, it all worked out for the best.”  
  
“Jim, sometimes I worry about you. In the future you’ve got to pay attention to these sorts of things if you want your relationship with Spock to run smoothly. At least tell me you got him something nice,” His mother said, worried. “He is going to be your bondmate, you want to make the right sort of impression-”  
  
“Mom, Mom,” Jim interrupted. “I got him two books, _Peter Pan_ and _Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There_. Apparently Amanda’s a big fan of Lewis Carroll, so that was nice, but he hadn’t read anything by J.M. Barrie. He said that he found it fascinating when he did finally read it, so I think that’s a good thing. Fascinating seems to be the thing Spock says when he likes something and doesn’t want to say something so Human as ‘I enjoyed it’.”  
  
“Jim,” his mother hissed, slightly admonishing.  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. “Mom, if you start in on the ‘all cultures are equally valid so long as they do no harm to others’ speech, I _will_ hang up on you.”  
  
“All I’m going to say is be careful with what you say, Jim, because you never know who’s going to be listening,” She said warningly, and then gave a gesture of dismissal. “Well, I’ve said my piece, so the subject is closed. Do you have anything else to share?”  
  
Jim leaned back in his seat, giving his mother the details she craved as she watched him carefully. “Oh, and there’s supposed to be the Annual Adolescent Chess Tournament here on Vulcan in about a week’s time. I actually ended up buying tickets for it, since it‘s the first year they‘re including three dimensional chess with the more traditional chess. I‘ve always thought that the 3D was more complex and more interesting.” Jim offered offhandedly. “I’m hoping that there’ll be some good matches to watch. Apparently there‘s some big shot Vulcan kid in the tournament that is supposed to wipe the floor with the competition.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure that Spock would enjoy that,” his mother enthused. “You should see if he wants to do that with you! It’s been so long since you’ve played chess. You used to love playing it with your father, but once you hit high school, you stopped being interested. It was never ‘cool’ enough for you. I always thought it was a shame that you didn’t keep playing. You had such a talent for it, and seemed like you enjoyed it so much. It’ll be nice for you to see all the youngsters playing, I‘m sure,” she smiled, wide and happy, and Jim didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t Spock that he was planning on attending the tournament with. He didn’t want to dash his parents dreams.  
  
“Yeah, Mom. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a bit of homework that I should finish up,” Jim announced, exasperated. He was so sick of his mother attempting to play matchmaker. He’d never needed her help for that, and it wasn’t about to change now.  
  
“My, we’ve been chatting for the last forty minutes. I’ve got to go as well, Jim. Well, I love you. And darling, make sure to call us, or have Amanda or Sarek call us as soon as Spock’s Time comes. We want to be around afterwards to greet the two of you, even if we won’t be able to make it in time for the ceremony itself since it will all be so short notice.” She paused then for a moment, smile fading. “Jim, darling, you _are_ alright with all this. You’re happy?”  
  
“Spock’s been greater than I expected he would be,” Jim admitted, and though that wasn’t a true answer to her question, or even a full explanation of just how Jim was feeling about Spock these days, it was enough for his mother to be satisfied, and she nodded, eyes relieved.  
  
“I’m glad it all worked out for the best, Jim,” she said, and it seemed as though ten years dropped from her face at the very thought that Jim was happy.  
  
Jim couldn’t lie to her while she was like that. “Well, it might not be for the best yet, but it’s getting there,” Jim murmured, thinking of the _kal’i’fee_ and Gary. For a moment, all he felt was a red hot guilt that scalded him from the inside out before he managed to crush it into oblivion by sheer force of will.  
  
“Alright, Jimmy. I trust that you’ll do what’s right. And I love you, I do,” his mother told his quietly. “Be safe, alright, and call me more often.”  
  
“Bye, Mom. I love you too. And tell Dad that I love him. Tell Sam to get out of his research for five minutes to give me a call too. I never seem to be able to get in touch with him, and it would be nice to hear from him once and a while,” Jim murmured.  
  
“Goodbye, honey.”  
  
With that, the vid screen went blank.  
  


~*~

  
  
“Hey, Jim,” Gary said from his prone position on the couch, eyes half closed. It was clear that before Jim had stepped through the door, he’d been dozing off in the sweltering heat, shirtless and with the fan on in order to let as much cool air as possible wash over his skin, as his apartment catered more towards Vulcans than any other race. As a result, the coldest it got in the room was around forty or so degrees, which was still warm for a Human. He didn’t stir from his position, except to indicate with a twitch of his fingers that Jim should come over to where he was stretched out.  
  
Jim shook his head, huffing a laugh as he dropped his bag on the nearby table and came over to where Gary was sitting. He dropped a kiss onto Gary’s forehead, and Gary glared up at him. “That’s not a proper kiss.”  
  
Jim laughed again and pressed kisses to Gary’s cheeks, then his nose, and then finally his mouth. Now Gary stirred, leaning up, supporting himself with one arm while winding the other around Jim’s neck, pulling him down so they had better contact. After a few seconds, Jim knelt on the floor so he wasn’t bending over; bending over and trying to kiss someone was not as easy as it sounded, and this way Jim could gain proper access to Gary’s neck for some nuzzling, peppering the skin with kisses.  
  
It was too hot to go much beyond that, however, and Jim finally sat back against the couch, rubbing little circles on Gary’s hip. “How are you?” Jim asked, resting his head against Gary‘s ribs. He let his eyes slip closed, Gary’s body feeling almost cool in comparison to the planet’s naturally hot weather and the memory of Spock’s own warmth. Jim thought it an odd thought for a moment before dismissing it, too tired to dwell on the fact that he’d gotten used to being around Spock’s higher body temperature somewhere along the way.  
  
“Nngh, don’t do that Jim. It’s too hot for all this touching,” Gary complained, swatting at Jim’s head. With a groan, he shifted back out of Jim’s reach.  
  
“Thanks,” Jim answered sarcastically, hand coming up to rub his head. “I feel loved, I really do. And come on, it’s not that bad today. At least not comparatively.” Even so, he moved his head and let his head fall against the couch, not touching Gary’s skin. “How are you?” Jim repeated.  
  
Gary heaved a sigh. “Alright, I guess. My research is kind of at a dead end. I wanted to come here to get some information on telepathy from the Vulcans, because I figured they’re the experts, and they’ve done the most studies about Human ESP because of their freakish bonding thing for the alliance. However, the assholes don’t want to tell me anything though, because apparently it’s all private. It’s just fucking research, man! Why the hell don’t they want to share it?” Gary grumped, sounding more disgruntled the more he spoke. “I feel like I have to fight tooth and nail just to get meetings with the scientists who did the research, let alone the research itself.”  
  
“Well, most of their research is centered around the compatibility when it comes to bonds, and the effects those bonds have on Humans, which really isn’t where your research is headed,” Jim protested, feeling the irresistible urge to defend Spock and the Vulcan people, even though he‘d thought and said some of the very same things. “It’s not fair to slam them on it. Besides, if you were doing research on an awkward and potentially life threatening condition where you need to have sex to sate a biological imperative, would _you_ be thrilled to share with every Tom, Dick and Harry that came along, especially if they‘re not even of the same species or bonded to one of them? I mean, come on, Vulcans might have the advantage when it comes to strength and stamina, but at least we’re not forced to have sex. And you know how closemouthed they are- I only know as much as I do because I’m bonded to Spock, which is next to nothing, as you well know, and you only know as much as you do because I’ve told it to you. Just lay off, Gary.”  
  
“Why do you keep doing that?” Gary demanded. “Why are you defending them, Jim? It used to be that you’d agree on stuff like this with me. Hell, you used to be the one making these complaints! You used to be able to hate them in peace, hate what they’ve done to you, hate the sort of shit they’ve put you through for your entire life. What happened to that Jim, the Jim I loved and had fun with.” A sneer crossed his face. “I don’t know if I like this new attitude.”  
  
“ _My_ new attitude?” Jim exclaimed, incredulous, sitting up. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Just because I’ve got a heart, just because I don’t think Spock’s the scum of the Earth, or Vulcan, or _whatever_ doesn’t make me the villain, Gary! It’s not his fault- he was just seven, just like I was. He didn’t have any control over the situation, and hating him isn’t going to make things all better! And what do you mean, I’m not fun? I come here at least twice a week and I do whatever you want, and I don’t argue. Fucking hell, Gary, Spock sometimes treats me better than you, and I’ve only know him for a couple of months!” Jim shouted, furious. That last bit wasn’t fair to say, but Jim was sick of being yelled just because he wasn’t willing to bitch every time Gary brought up Vulcan these days. The words had been on the tip of his tongue for days now, the argument brewing between them since almost he first moment that Gary had come to Vulcan.  
  
Gary’s eyes flashed, and Jim could see that something in him had snapped. In a voice full of ire and fury that hissed between clenched teeth, Gary snarled, “ _Well, then maybe you should just fucking stay here and bond with your new lover Spock! I’ll just leave this planet and your fucking ungrateful ass and you can just bite me_!”  
  
Silence.  
  
Jim paled, frozen in place, staring off into the distance. His breath caught in his chest as though it was a stone that was weighing him down. There was no thought, there was no emotion, just a terrible blankness that pervaded every inch of his body and left him empty.  
  
He waited for the panic to settle into his bones, waited for the horror of what had been said to sink in and finally make sense. He waited for the sense of rejection to overwhelm him.  
  
He waited.  
  
Nothing.  
  
The thought of spending the rest of his life with Spock didn’t make him nauseous anymore, didn’t make him want to kill himself just to avoid it, didn’t make him want to cry, didn’t fill him with fear, didn’t make him sink into despair…  
  
It just filled him with a deep, incandescent warmth and joy that terrified him more than Gary’s words.  
  
The very realization made his vision narrow, and he swayed, struggling to pull himself together, to defend himself, to get out of Gary’s apartment. He had to think about this, because though the idea had been growing for a while now, he wasn’t ready to face it, he hadn’t ever been ready to face it, because he was supposed to want his freedom, to want to fight Spock’s claim except for the fact that the more he learned about Spock, the more he wanted to know, to feel. Jim could hear his breaths getting faster and faster, his heart beginning to thunder as he became light-headed.  
  
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Jim heard Gary say distantly, and he sounded panicked as he rushed around the room, alternately trying to get Jim to respond and muttering to himself about ice and heart rates and checking Jim’s responses. Something clattered to the floor as Jim sat there, still motionless and more freaked out that he’d ever been in his entire life.  
  
Then Jim could feel Gary at his elbow, helping him up. Jim flinched back, instinctively trying to protect himself from another attack, but Gary whispered soothingly at him until Jim permitted his touch, taking him into the bedroom and laying him down, covering his eyes and forehead with a cool cloth. The chill settled him, centered him, let him focus on nothing more than taking every breath slowly, than letting his heart rate slow and letting the cool cloth leech away his racing thoughts. As he relaxed, he became aware that Gary was whispering reassurances into his ears, peppering kisses on every inch of revealed skin. Gary’s body was flush against his, and though the other man tried to keep his hands from shaking, Jim could still feel Gary’s fingers trembling against his stomach.  
  
“I promise, Jim, I’ll fight, I didn’t mean it, don’t be afraid, I love you, shhhh, calm down, I’ll fight, I promise I will.” The litany helped Jim relax, helped him convince himself that he didn’t want to be here on Vulcan, that he could rely on Gary to free him and everything would turn out for the best. He would go out into the stars and never have to return.  
  
Finally, Jim lifted a hand, cupping Gary’s face and letting him thumb rest over Gary’s lips, silencing Gary at last. Gary shifted against him, removing the cool cloth which had become considerably warmer in the interim and taking Jim’s hand off of his lips so he could kiss his apology straight into Jim’s mouth. Jim let Gary kiss him, but couldn’t forgive him, couldn’t return the kiss yet, and after a minute, Gary sat back, face desperate. “I didn’t mean it, really, Jim,” he whispered, and his voice broke midway through.  
  
“I know,” Jim whispered back, and he did know, but he couldn’t forgive Gary just yet, couldn’t forgive himself for that rush of- _no, don’t think of that word just yet_ \- emotion that had followed Gary’s declaration. “I know you didn’t mean it, Gary, but I told you when this all started that it would be kinder just to say no than to hold it over my head for the rest of my life or drop out at a critical moment.” Jim swallowed. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.”  
  
“I know, I know,” Gary said, and every line of his body screamed ‘earnest and truthful’. “I’m sorry, I really, _really_ am.”  
  
Jim moved then, needing some fresh air, needing to be able to think without Gary hovering over him, apologizing for his every move and breathing down his neck, expecting more than Jim could give him for the moment. He wondered if it made him a bad person to believe that Spock would have never threatened him like that, would have never used words to strike at his weak points. He knew that probably wasn‘t fair to Gary; everyone crossed lines in arguments, including half-Vulcans, he was sure. Nevertheless, he couldn‘t stand to be in the same room as Gary for another second. “Listen, I’m going to head out. I just need a chance to think, alright?”  
  
Gary’s face shut down and he quickly pulled out of Jim’s personal space, expression completely opaque. “Yeah, sure, Jim. Whatever you want. Listen just…call me within the next couple of days alright?” That too earnest look was back, demonstrating just how badly Gary knew that he’d fucked up. “I just…” words failed him then, because Gary had never been particularly eloquent, but Jim decided to set Gary at least a little at ease despite the anger burning slowly in his heart and gave him a quick kiss, but unlike normal there wasn‘t even the hint of a spark.  
  
Instead, it was cold.  
  
“Sorry,” Gary said into that space between them, the word shivering in the air. He looked about to say more, but he looked away, mouth tight, hands cross over his stomach as though to hold nausea at bay.  
  
Jim sighed, breath gusting over Gary’s face. He couldn’t reassure Gary any more. Leaving Gary sitting on his bed, looking despondent, Jim picked up his bag and left without looking behind him, heart aching, wondering if he and Gary could ever recover from this. They’d never argued like this before, flinging insults and threats so casually, but then they’d never tried to be serious before either. He’d always been casual with Gary. It had always been about the laughter, the drinks, the witty banter. They’d had sex long before they’d started dating, so even that part had been casual, more about mutual release than pent up passion and a deep desire for one another. And that had been fine, that had been _more_ than fine, because they were both command track, they both had goals. They weren’t looking for anything more than casual, they couldn‘t afford deep long lasting ties.  
  
With Spock, Jim wanted to be more than casual. With Spock, Jim could take out that carefully hidden memory of the two princes who were supposed to bring their worlds together and wish for a happy ending, because with Spock, forever seemed worth it.  
  
With Spock, forever _was_ worth it.  
  
He meandered through the streets without consciously thinking of where he was going, without seeing the faces of those around him. His entire being was focused on that one raw moment- not when Gary had first refused to be his champion as he thought he would be, but of that strange, unexplained surge of happiness that had followed on the heels of Gary’s threat. He probably knew that he was scaring the other Vulcans on the streets with his dismal expression and hunched shoulders, but Jim couldn’t find it in him to care. It made him felt a little better, in fact, that he might be irritating them even just a little- after all misery loves company, and Jim was plenty miserable.  
  
“Is there a reason that you are wandering around the streets of Shi’Kahr without an apparent destination? In addition, you appear to have been outside for an extended period of time, if the fact that your shoulders and face are a shade of red that appears to be from burning and not from the natural red pigmentation of your blood, as is seen when your capillaries are enlarged, such as when you blush.”  
  
There was only one person who spoke like that who was also comfortable enough with the resident Human to speak to him without an introduction. Jim stopped, eyes slipping closed as he asked whoever was listening for patience. Spock was pretty much the last person in the world that Jim wanted to deal with at the moment, not when his thoughts about his fight with Gary were rattling around his skull. It was clear that Spock wasn’t going anywhere, however; he could practically hear the half-Vulcan standing beside him, that inquiring gaze like a physical weight.  
  
“Hey, Spock,” Jim said glumly, eyes downcast. He tried to summon a smile as he turned to Spock, trying to hide his turmoil. Spock was standing beside him, face set in a carefully neutral mask, a bag of groceries sitting in his arms. “What’s up?”  
  
“The sky, per usual,” Spock said calmly. “There is a large amount of water, nitrogen, carbon dioxide as well as other chemical products present in the atmosphere as well, though as the exact percentages fluctuate, I could not tell you how much of each is currently present in the atmosphere. There are also birds and flying mammals above us, amongst other things. However, if you were using that colloquial phrase in order to ask me how I am faring, I am faring quite well. My mother sent me to the store in order to pick up some vegetables and eggs for our dinner, as evidenced by the food in my arms. How are you faring?”  
  
Somehow, Spock’s low gentle voice, the smallest undercurrent of concern lacing his voice, the worry that lingered in the corners of his mouth, had Jim’s throat closing. He opened his mouth to try and lie, to attempt to fool Spock, but the words wouldn’t come. “Spock,” Jim started, but his eyes started filling. “Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” Jim cursed, wiping at his eyes. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to say something flippant, head home with Spock and cry himself to sleep.  
  
The second of pure shock that showed itself on Spock’s face almost made everything he’d gone through that afternoon worth it, and a laugh bubbled up, mixing with Jim’s tears, and only making Spock looked more freaked out despite his best efforts. It took Jim a moment to control himself, but he managed to steady his breathing and prevent any more tears from leaking out for the time being. Jim took several deep breaths, glancing from under his eyelashes as Spock shifted from foot to foot, clearly at a loss and wanting to be anywhere but standing next to Jim.  
  
“Jim, is there something I can help you with, something I can do?” Spock finally asked, having steeled himself. After another second’s debate, he even went so far as to lay a hand on Jim’s shoulder in a Human show of comfort. He led Jim to a side street, away from prying eyes, and helped Jim sit down before setting the groceries on the ground and joining Jim, “Are you comfortable?” Spock asked, dark eyes touched with genuine worry. His hand was still on Jim’s shoulder, and the heat from his hand and from the fact that Spock was sitting so close made Jim relax, tense muscles uncoiling.  
  
Jim was inexplicably warmed. Spock didn’t like touching at the best of times, but not only had Spock stuck around even though Jim had been crying, which was pretty much as physically emotional as a person could get, but the concern which had previously been only lacing Spock’s voice was slowly taking center stage. Of course, the kindness had the side effect of making the tears start again as he recalled the sheer rage in Gary’s voice as he threatened Jim, which in turn made Jim feel guiltier than ever before. Spock was being kind, leaving his comfort zone in order to make Jim feel better, trying to please his bondmate, while Jim was crying over the fact that Gary had threatened to refuse to become his champion to challenge the very person comforting Jim about it. Another laugh bubbled up, this one considerably more hysterical than the last, and the guilt only grew stronger.  
  
The laugh let something lose. Jim grabbed a hold of Spock’s shirt, turned to hide his face in Spock’s collar, and let his tears flow, completely unrepentant about what his closeness might be doing to Spock. It was all too much, being told that Spock’s _pon farr_ would be coming, trying to find a balance with Gary, wondering if he was doing the right thing, finding out that Spock wasn’t the horrible creature he’d always imagined him to be, the horrible creature that was easy to hate. Then there was the expectations that he would be Spock’s bondmate, the guilt that filled him every time either his parents or Spock’s parents- or worst of all, Spock himself- hinted at what was to come. And now with Gary’s threat it was too much, far too much and the stress and emotional pain made him cling to Spock like his bondmate was the only person in the world that mattered, because some part of Jim’s heart and soul was absolutely convinced that Spock had become the center of his world.  
  
So Jim cried, letting the tears become a release, and tried not to think to much about why that might be true.  
  
Spock did his best to comfort Jim, awkwardly, wrapping his arms around Jim’s torso and moving his hand down Jim’s back in a rhythmic motion until Jim’s sobs slowed and then stopped. It was what Spock’s mother had done when he’d experienced emotional turmoil as a child, before he’d chosen to uphold the Vulcan way and control his emotions. Spock was briefly worried about betraying Jim’s trust, as the contact allowed him full access to Jim’s emotions, though Jim was too frazzled to have coherent thoughts. However, Spock eventually decided that Jim’s emotional wellbeing should take precedence, and came to the conclusion that since Jim’s emotions were telling him the same thing that Jim’s physical response was and therefore should not be a reason to stop providing Jim with comfort.  
  
Beyond that though, Spock felt an unusual pride, a warmth and happiness that Jim trusted him enough to provide a safe haven for his emotional outburst. Spock felt a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of Jim like this, but it was overwhelmed by the feel of Jim’s body against his own, the undercurrent of peace, of ecstasy, the low hum of relief and satisfaction that Spock was here. It made Spock tighten his grip ever so slightly, sending his emotions back as though Jim were a Vulcan that would be able to sense and take advantage of them. However, Jim must have picked up something through his strong empathic senses- one of the reasons he’d been considered for the role of bondmate in the first place- because he murmured, “Thank you,” against Spock’s throat in a way that made Spock want to do all sorts of terrible and immoral things to the person that had so thoroughly upset Jim.  
  
Spent, Jim relaxed against Spock’s heat, letting it sink into him and comfort him, completely cried out and boneless. A headache pounded at his temples, and his mouth felt cotton dry. “Sorry,” Jim finally murmured against Spock’s skin. “But really, thank you. I know that was probably uncomfortable for you, but you stuck around. That means a lot.” Jim pulled away slowly, wiping at his face. “Can we go home?” Jim asked finally.  
  
“Yes, Jim,” Spock said, eyes softening as the rest of Jim’s negative emotions settled and slowly faded, though they didn‘t disappear, much to Spock‘s displeasure. “Should you need someone with which to speak of the events preceding our meeting, I invite you to discuss it with me at your convenience. And should the person who upset you require correction, you may also avail yourself of my services.”  
  
Jim smiled then, and though it was exhausted, the light was back in Jim’s eyes, and that was reason enough not to protest when a tiny smirk curled the corner of Jim’s mouth. “Did you just offer to kick someone’s ass for me?” Jim asked, fighting down a broad smile. Spock just raised an eyebrow, but Jim wasn’t fooled. “You did, didn’t you?” Jim chuckled a little. “I’ll tell you what Spock, if I need any ass kicking to take place, you’ll be the first person I go to.”  
  
“Very well,” Spock said, a touch stiffly, and Jim laughed again a light sound despite his hoarse voice.  
  
Before he could talk himself out of it, Jim paused and said, “Listen, I bought tickets for the chess tournament that will be happening in a seven days. Do you…would you like to go with me? I don‘t know if you like chess, and it‘s totally fine if you don‘t, but I thought it might be something that we could to. Together, I mean. Go could go together.” Jim looked away, embarrassed at the way he sounded. He wasn’t some pre-teen asking his crush out on his first date ever. He was an adult, or at least he was supposed to be. He watched Spock carefully, biting his lip ever so slightly as Spock considered the question.  
  
Spock wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. It had always been Spock who planned their outings, who made the effort to get together; Jim might participate, might change the details of their plans as he desired, but Jim had never taken an active interest in spending time with Spock, in inviting him to go do things together. To have Jim offer to go with him to a chess tournament, to make plans of his own volition made Spock want more than ever to open the bond between them and really connect with Jim, to see if his mind was as dynamic as he was, to see how Jim’s happiness and laughter felt when it was entwined in Spock’s own. “I would find such an outing fascinating,” Spock assured Jim, and was gratified when Jim’s smile stretched across his face, white teeth glinting in the bright Vulcan sun. To be the cause of that joy, of that energy, gave Spock a thrill that he couldn’t have stopped if he tried.  
  
“I’m glad,” Jim said, stepping closer to Spock. Spock went to pick up the groceries, but Jim shook his head, picking them up before Spock had the chance. “It’s the least I can do,” Jim explained. “I’m sure your mother’s wondering where we are, so we should probably head back.” As they once more began the journey home, Jim asked with a heart lighter than he’d had in a long time, “So do you play chess yourself? I know that Vulcans have a game that’s supposed to be similar, but I’ve never played it before. I’ve played both regular and three-dimensional chess though.”  
  
“I do play chess. I find three-dimensional chess to be an acceptable intellectual pastime, and have been playing both _kal‘tow_ and three-dimensional chess since I was three years and seven weeks old.. Might I ask what level you are at?” Spock asked.  
  
“Grandmaster,” Jim said casually, without the air of someone being falsely modest. It was simply stated, without any particular emphasis to it. There was no point in trying to hide the true depth of his skills. “What about you? Maybe sometime you can teach me how to play _kal’tow_. A friend of mine once told me that Terran chess is like tic-tac-toe in comparison, but it sounds like fun.” Jim grinned at Spock.  
  
“I am also a Grandmaster,” Spock admitted quietly, and his thoughts immediately turned to what it might be like to play Jim. “And I would be honored to instruct you.”  
  
“I know it’ll be an honor,” Jim teased. “I’m an absolute delight to teach, or so everyone says.” Jim winked, adjusting the groceries in his arms, peering into the bag to make sure that the food was no worse for the wear despite the little detour. Spock made a motion to take the bag from Jim’s arms. Jim looked at Spock, daring him to try, and Spock decided that he would prefer all of his limbs attached. “Good decision,” Jim warned. “Besides, another five minutes tops and we’ll be at the house. I can carry it for that long.”  
  
“Very well,” Spock said.  
  
“There you are!” Amanda said as they came up the steps to the house, hurrying up to meet them. “I thought you were just going out to pick up some vegetables, Spock! I was beginning to get worried. And why are you carrying the food, Jim?” Amanda’s eyes narrowed, taking in both her son and his bondmate’s comparatively ragged appearance, noting Jim’s puffy eyes and exhaustion. “What happened?” she said suspiciously, eyes narrowing.  
  
“The matter has been settled,” Spock said, physically stepping in front of Jim to shield the Human from his mother. “There is no longer any reason to be concerned.”  
  
Amanda’s lips thinned, and she gave the pair of them the evil eye for a moment. When they didn’t relent, she caved. It was clear she wasn’t pleased, but she seemed willing enough to go along with it, especially if Jim and Spock were on good terms and they both said that the matter was settled. “Well, if you’re sure. If you need me, I’m here though. Jim, you’re already like a son to me. If you’re ever in any trouble, you can always come to me,” Amanda asserted without hesitation.  
  
“I know, Amanda,” Jim murmured. “And I appreciate it.” He didn’t stop her from taking the food out of his arms, since they were getting tired. Amanda stalked back into the house, and Spock made the move to follow, but Jim gripped Spock’s sleeve, preventing the half-Vulcan from entering. Instead of giving his thanks yet again for everything Spock had done for Jim not only today, but since the very first moment they’d met, Jim leaned up and pressed a single cool kiss to Spock’s cheekbone, disappearing inside the house before he could think the better of it.  
  
Spock stared after Jim, uncomprehending for a few long seconds. Finally, he raised a shaking hand to his face, brushing over the place where Jim had kissed him, the area still burning with a cold fire.  
  
In the shadows cast by the house, Spock’s lips curved up ever so slightly. 


	10. Chapter 10

Later that night, when the worst of the heat had dissipated and the stars were just beginning to peek out, Jim made his way out to the hammock in Amanda’s garden as he did most evenings. He needed to think, and he did his best thinking outside under the stars. Spock followed him out tonight, and Jim didn’t protest, the half-Vulcan’s heat strangely comforting at his back. Jim didn‘t initiate a conversation with him, however, because he had other thoughts clouding his mind. While Jim headed for the hammock, Spock set out his meditation mat without preamble. Jim watched from under his lashes as Spock sat, wrapped up carefully in warm clothing since the desert lost a good portion of its heat during the night. Though it was still warm enough in Jim’s opinion for him to be in shorts and a t-shirt, Spock was wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt that drew attention to the long line of his body- inadvertently, Jim was sure. Spock’s breathing slowed as he began settling into his mediation, body still, the only sign of life the tiny rise and fall of his chest. As far as Jim could tell, it wasn’t the true deep meditation that he’d been told all Vulcans did to help control their emotions, but a lighter state of meditation that Spock simply used to center himself and organize his thoughts. Either way, it meant that Spock wouldn’t be paying attention to Jim, which Jim had no problem with.  
  
He settled into the hammock once he was positive that Spock’s concentration was elsewhere, carefully sitting in the dip in the center so that he wouldn‘t spill before stretching out. When he was assured that the hammock wouldn’t dump him onto the ground if he moved, Jim pulled out his headphones and chose a random playlist from his PADD as he stared up at the stars absently. He found that he missed seeing Earth’s constellations sometimes, the familiar sky, but for now it was enough to look at the glimmering stars above Vulcan, to let their vastness wash over him and make all of his problems disappear. Or perhaps disappear wasn’t the right word. It was more that with all the stars and all the planets and all the beings on all the words right there in front of him, his problems seemed much less significant. After all, he was just one person.  
  
He needed it tonight especially.  
  
It seemed in some ways, his time on Vulcan had been a blur. That first fateful meeting with Spock, that horrific movie night that had gone downhill from the very first moment, their time at the VSA. Gary’s arrival, Amanda’s continual kindness, even Sarek’s solemn and subtle approval that had grown over the course of the last few weeks. There was his conversation with Sokal, his guilt, Spock’s dry sense of humor. There were his tears that very afternoon that had broken some sort of dam inside him and left him hollowed out, sick of running, sick of hiding, sick of being here on Vulcan, sick of Gary, sick of _everything_ except Spock and even that Jim wasn‘t entirely sure about. All those moments blended together into a huge mass that Jim didn’t fully understand, didn’t know how to decipher and make manageable. He’d been changed by his time here, and he wasn’t entirely happy with that fact, not when changing meant the realization that he might be doing the wrong thing.  
  
Yet simultaneously it was as though everything was happening in slow motion, that every detail of his time here was crystal clear. It certainly seemed that way sometimes. How else could he explain that he knew exactly how Spock smelled even now when the half-Vulcan was sitting a good three meters away, a strange mixture of the hot desert all around them and something fruity. If things weren’t happening in slow motion, how could Jim tell that Spock’s eyes were the most exquisite shade of a brown so dark it was almost black. It went beyond the physical as well, to the urge Jim had to make Spock smile at him with his eyes, to the casual way they were able to sit around each other without needing to speak. It was the debates Jim had with Spock, more heated and passionate and strident than the half-Vulcan would ever admit. It was the steady urge Jim was having these days to kiss Spock, to touch him, to feel that lean body marking his own, the urge that had grown so strong that very afternoon that Jim had found it perfectly acceptable for a single moment to bestow a kiss upon Spock’s cheek.  
  
Jim had wanted to blame it on the bond. It would be so easy to do it, so easy to dismiss Jim’s feelings as something fabricated by the bond, but Jim couldn’t find a way to make it reasonable. If the bond was really the source of Jim’s feelings, why hadn’t he been instantly in love with Spock the moment that he’d seen him? Why had Jim spent so much time fighting it, why was Jim planning on challenging still? It didn’t make sense. No, whatever Jim was feeling was wholly his own.  
  
And that was perhaps the crux of the matter.  
  
Jim stared at the stars above him, gathering all the courage he could. He could admit, if only to himself, how he felt about Spock.  
  
He could.  
  
Any minute now.  
  
It was on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Jim clenched his teeth, wishing nothing more than to be able to get out into the stars now. He lifted a hand, fingers curved as if he could pluck the stars from the sky and put them in his pocket so he could pull them out whenever he wanted to get lost in their secrets. He closed his eyes, hand falling across his face as his heart clenched. It was easier to lie to himself, but he couldn’t, not now, not when he’d cried on Spock’s shoulder, not when Spock was so kind and genuine and intelligent and wise, not when Spock made him laugh and want to become a better…just better at everything.  
  
Spock made Jim want to be worthy of the half-Vulcan.  
  
Spock made Jim want to give him the universe.  
  
Spock made Jim want to love him.  
  
Jim loved him.  
  
Jim was helplessly, hopelessly in love with Spock. His bondmate.  
  
The thought wasn’t a supernova in and of itself. It didn’t make the sky light up with fireworks, it didn’t shake the earth beneath Jim, nor did it make him want to spontaneously burst into song and take Spock out here in the garden and make him his for all eternity.  
  
Instead, the thought made him aware of the supernova that was already blazing within him.  
  
It was a supernova that had been growing in strength since he and Spock had first met, so gradually built and so bright that Jim, at the center of all that incandescent love and need and desire, couldn’t see beyond it, couldn’t recognize that he had changed, that he had _been_ changed by that love he’d fostered without knowing. He‘d somehow become steeped in love for this unique and caring and incredible individual and there was no way for him to stop. It was the recognition of all that love that was just waiting to pour out that made Jim want to set the sky ablaze with fireworks, that made Jim wish he could shake the earth so all would know of his feelings, made him want to woo Spock with a love song and worship his body until Spock was ruined for all others.  
  
Jim couldn’t stop shivering, couldn’t stop the litany of _IloveSpockIloveSpockIloveSpock_ from swirling around his brain, nerves alight with the mere thought. He sat there, in the hammock, in the backyard surrounded by flowers on the planet Vulcan, so far from home and gazed up at the stars in the heavens and for once the stars weren’t enough to make his problems, his wants, insignificant. Instead, he felt like anyone looking out at the stars would be able to see him and his love, more brilliant than any star. And it was a testament to how in love he was with Spock that he didn’t even think there was something ridiculous about his previous thought.  
  
Then reality intruded.  
  
It was wonderful to bask in the love he held for Spock, to let the passion fill his heart and acknowledge his desires, but Jim couldn’t live solely on air any more than he could live solely on love. Spock had a life here on Vulcan with the VSA, he had his family as well as his, perhaps not friends, but close colleagues. Spock’s future was here with his research, with the male or female he would eventually bond with after Jim challenged. Jim though, Jim’s family was on Earth, his future was on a starship exploring the millions of worlds that were out there. Jim had friends back on Earth, had his owns hopes and dreams and priorities, just as Spock did.  
  
And even if Spock somehow returned Jim’s feeling despite being Vulcan, despite attempting to control his emotions, despite the fact that Spock had spent a majority of the time of their acquaintance assuring Jim that he could leave after Spock’s _pon farr_ , that he _should_ leave after Spock’s _pon farr_ , what were they supposed to do then? Jim flatly refused to live on Vulcan for the rest of his days, and Jim couldn’t imagine Spock coming out with him on a starship for the next forty years, assuming that was even possible.  
  
Love simply wasn’t enough, had never been enough, and the acknowledgement of that fact shattered Jim’s heart.  
  
He fought through the pain, fought to control his pain long enough to orchestrate his thoughts into some kind of order. It took long minutes. Jim had never expected to fall in love here, not when he’d fought even admitting that he was bonded for so long. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair at all when he’d spent so much time on Earth, with Gary. Couldn’t he have fallen in love with someone on Earth? Couldn’t he have fallen in love with Gary despite the fact that he was an asshole, despite the fact that they’d only intended for this to be casual, despite the fact that they had always put their ambitions before each other? Couldn’t he have fallen in love with Gary, who was going to fight for Jim’s freedom, who was going to give him everything he’d ever wanted?  
  
Except he didn’t want it anymore.  
  
In a perfect world, he and Spock could build a life together, but this wasn’t the perfect world. He had to challenge, he had to get out and take all the time he could to mend his heart, because he and Spock could be in the truest love of their lives and it still wouldn’t matter because it would never work.  
  
It would never work.  
  
Jim lay there on the hammock, hyper aware of Spock sitting so close yet not nearly close enough, completely unaware of Jim’s thoughts, his feelings, the agony that had effectively left him too raw and exposed to even cry. Jim rolled slightly, and found that he couldn’t resist drinking in the sight of Spock on his mat. Amanda’s flowers painted a colorful backdrop, the brilliant red and blue and orange and purple petals making Jim more aware of the stark coloring of Spock’s form: the pale ivory skin that gleamed faintly in the yellow lights from the house with the slightest hint of a green undertone, the black hair and clothing blending into the shadows. Spock’s sooty lashes were two dark curves on his cheeks, his lips ever so slightly parted as he breathed in and out, steadily, deep in concentration.  
  
Jim _craved_ him in that moment, a craving so undeniable that he’d actually sat up, intending to go over to Spock before Jim caught himself and lay back down, physically turning away from Spock. Spock wasn’t his Prince Charming- loving him wasn’t going to fix any of his problems; instead, loving him actually created more. Loving Spock just made the lack of a fairytale ending all the more devastating. There would be no happily ever after, no loving each other even when they were too old to want sex, no slow sleepy mornings where they woke up entwined, no chance of Spock smiling at him with his eyes, making Jim feel like he’d come home.  
  
Jim swallowed, terrified by the need he’d felt that instant, but unsurprised. It was one of the reasons that he’d put off acknowledging his love for so long; he’d always loved hard, loved completely, loved without caring about the circumstances. He _hated_ Spock for a moment as he turned away from him. He _hated_ that Spock had somehow made Jim fall so head over heels that Jim was considering giving up everything for him. He bit his lip, the pain centering him for a moment, letting his breathing slow, and the faux hatred faded.  
  
As he did, the guilt started, the pervasive guilt that seemed to be his constant companion these days. With a sinking feeling, Jim realized that he couldn’t keep Spock in the dark about this any longer. It hadn’t been fair in the beginning, and certainly wasn’t fair now. It made him feel low, lower than scum. He had to tell him, about Gary and Jim’s relationship with him, about his plans to challenge, about everything. If he loved Spock in the least, he couldn’t blindside Spock like that, couldn’t make Spock believe that he was challenging because he didn’t like him or because they weren’t compatible or any of that. It wasn’t fair to the half-Vulcan, and it would be hard enough for him to go through _pon farr_ without holding on to the notion that Jim was going to be there for him, as much as Jim would love to- literally. He would just have to sit Spock down and explain that it wasn’t going to work out, not when they had built two different lives, and that he didn‘t think that compromise was going to be enough. It wasn’t fair for either of them to expect the other to drop all of their hopes and dreams, and Jim was sure that‘s what was going to happen if they tried to stay together. Of course, there was what Spock had suggested, and it was all well and good for Spock to want them to meet only once every seven years for his Time but Jim couldn’t put himself through that time and again, couldn’t have Spock only to leave him again.  
  
Jim just…couldn’t.  
  
He thought he’d be happier when he’d resolved what he was going to do, but tears prickled at his eyes and he clenched them shut, folding in on himself as he struggled to deal with the scraped raw feeling that made every inch of his skin feel like he’d taken a knife to it. He knew he probably should have stopped lying to himself about the entire matter sooner, but it was so much easier to leave such things unacknowledged and ignored. It was easier to be a coward, to be two people- one with Spock, and one with Gary. He let out a sigh that trembled. He knew that he should probably speak with the half-Vulcan sooner before later and he got off the hammock, standing in the Vulcan night and staring at Spock, who was still deep in his meditation.  
  
Spock, whose expression was so serene, his face unlined. Spock, his bondmate, the being that he was going to betray any day now, if the Vulcan Healers were correct in their projections for Spock’s Time. Jim wrapped his arms around his body, the touch the only thing stopping him from breaking down right there and spilling everything to Spock.  
  
One more night. If he was going to crush any hope of being with Spock, he deserved one more night to be in love, one more night where Spock didn‘t think of him as the scum of the Earth, of Vulcan, of the universe.  
  
Just one more night. That was all he was asking.  
  
Before he could talk himself out of it, Jim crossed the garden, kneeling down next to Spock, studying him for one long minute. He just wanted a single memory to hold onto when Spock looked at him with shock and disgust and rage and agony for betraying him, for refusing to become his bondmate. “Spock,” he breathed, then sat back on his heels, waiting for the half-Vulcan to open his eyes.  
  
Perhaps thirty seconds passed before Spock opened his eyes, dark irises glimmering with warmth in the light from the house. “Is there something you need, Jim?”  
  
Jim swallowed, feeling like he was trespassing, that he was doing something he shouldn’t. “Can you close your eyes for a second?” Jim requested, fidgeting with his clothing. “Well, not literally for a second. But please, just…just close your eyes, alright?”  
  
Spock looked like he might refuse for a long moment, but then acquiesced, shutting his eyes. Jim leaned forward ever so slightly, brushing his lips against Spock, drinking in his heat, his breath, the little sigh Spock released when Jim shifted a little closer so as to better taste the copper and fruity tang that still lingered on his lips. Jim took all he could and imprinted the feel of Spock’s soft lips against his own into his memory so that he would remember it until the day he died, going so far as to bring up a hand to cradle Spock‘s head, the soft hair finer and silkier than Jim‘s own. Before he could get too carried away, Jim pulled back and Spock followed, seeking that last contact until Jim pulled back completely, standing.  
  
Jim retreated towards the house, throat dry, heart racing. Spock‘s eyes were half-lidded, mouth open and tinged with green, though not completely kiss swollen. Jim resisted the urge to go back and finish the job. As if sensing his thoughts, Spock swayed a little towards Jim. “Goodnight, Spock,” he murmured, knowing it would reach Spock’s sensitive ears.  
  
Jim turned his back, praying that Spock might one day forgive him.  
  


~*~

  
  
When Jim headed out to his mother’s garden, Spock hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should follow Jim outside. “Go on,” his mother whispered, winking. Spock could feel the tips of his ears heat ever so slightly and nodded once. Spock thought for a moment, and then headed upstairs for his meditation mat. Before he spoke to Jim, he wanted to deliberate as to what he should do, and a light meditation would suffice.  
  
Jim headed immediately for the hammock that his mother had insisted upon installing, the hammock he’d all but claimed as his own, glancing at Spock occasionally as Spock set up his mat and seated himself, letting his body relax, letting his breathing and heart rate slow until his entire being was calm. He ignored the sounds around him, the rustling of the leaves, Jim’s steady breathing, the wind, the quiet chatter of people on the streets. He also let the light from the house fade from his consciousness until he had fully immersed himself into his meditation and found himself on the mental plane where he would be able to organize his thoughts and at least sense his emotions.  
  
As usual, the first thing that Spock sensed the love he felt for Jim.  
  
He’d long since stopped being embarrassed about the emotions he felt in regards to Jim. It was hard to feel ashamed for being emotional when love made him feel so wonderful, so cared for, so honored for being able to love so brilliant and beautiful a being as Jim. When Spock had first felt the emotion, that night when Jim had made him liquid nitrogen ice cream, his first thought had been to acknowledge it then dismiss it, as per his training; however, everything in him rebelled at that thought, and he’d reconsidered. Love would help him build an emotional connection to the Human that was his bondmate. It was only logical that he allow it to foster.  
  
However, as the weeks had passed and the feeling had grown, Spock had begun cherishing the emotion in its own right, not just because of what it could do for him. He found he wanted nothing more than to give away his love to Jim, to help Jim in his research and goals, to help him prosper, to make him smile and laugh and be happy. He found that he didn’t want Jim to leave, wanted nothing more than to sequester Jim in his room and demonstrate his love until Jim cried his name. He wanted the smaller things too, the kisses in the evenings, to have intelligent discussions with someone who didn’t care about his heritage, to feel that urge to smile when Jim tried to sing while cleaning.  
  
He sank into that love for a long moment, letting it wash over him and wishing most desperately that Jim felt the same way. He wanted to be able to feel that same connection from Jim’s perspective, to be able to see Jim’s thoughts, to feel his emotions, positive or negative through the bond. He wanted to be able to build a life with Jim, a future where they would be together.  
  
The reality was, however, that Jim would be leaving after his _pon farr_ and returning to Starfleet, the greatest irony being that Jim would think that he was complying with Spock's wishes. After that, they would have the bare minimum interaction for the rest of their lives. Spock would never have that vision that his parents had always presented to him, one of pervading good humor and love and logic in equal measures. They complimented each other in all things, forming a perfect companionship.  
  
He wanted it.  
  
He wanted that love, that connection, that life more than anything else in his entire world. However, how could it be possible, when they had their family, their jobs, their entire _lives_ on different worlds? Spock was willing to compromise, willing to make it work in whatever way possible, but he just couldn’t see Jim wanting to be with Spock. Jim was brilliant and intelligent and charming, while Spock was an awkward half-Vulcan without looks or charisma to recommend him. The only thing Spock had, in fact, was his intelligence, which would never be enough for someone like Jim, especially when Jim matched him in that category.  
  
And yet…it was illogical, terribly illogical to hope, but Spock couldn’t help it. Jim had bared himself that afternoon, had given Spock all that he was, his thought, his emotion, his entire being and trusted Spock to care and comfort him as was his duty as Jim‘s bondmate. Jim had done so without reserve, and that trust had rocked Spock to his very core; Vulcans were not as a general rule trusting or kind or gentle. They favored logic above all else, and in their logical world, Spock had no place. With Jim, he had more than a place; he was needed, his presence was desired, and Spock was equally willing to trust his entire self to Jim. And the kiss afterwards, the chaste kiss on Spock’s cheek that Spock understood to be the equivalent of the most basic of Vulcan kisses; discreet and gentle, but used to show love and care. It was just further demonstration that Jim clearly cared for him in some capacity.  
  
It was that hope that made Spock consider removing the block.  
  
As soon as Spock had learned the technical skill necessary to block the bond, he had done so. Early experience had taught him that he was not welcome; ostracized from the circles that the Vulcans his own age had moved in, he had spent a largely solitary and untrusting childhood. He hadn’t wanted a stranger having access to his mind, especially if that stranger was not adept in the ways of telepathy. However, if Spock could demonstrate the depth of his feelings for Jim, could show Jim his mind and even brush Jim’s own, to truly show Jim that he was willing to compromise, willing to do what was necessary to at least give them a shot at creating a life, then maybe Jim would consider something more.  
  
The very thought had Spock settling into a deeper meditation, one where he could access the bond itself, and when he realized what he was doing, when he realized that he was actually allowing Jim access to his mind, he couldn’t find it in him to make himself stop.  
  
On the mental plane, Spock strode forward towards the link in his mind, a string that was perhaps a hand’s width wide. It would get thicker and stronger after they had bonded during Spock’s Time, but until that time, it was fairly fragile. Spock’s telepathic blocks had taken the form of a reinforced steel door, completely unmarred by bolts or any weakness, a looming, imposing structure that Spock walked up to without fear. Spock simply raised a hand, and touched the door lightly, using his mental strength to dissipate the energy that had gone into forming the bond in the first place. An imaginary wind swirled past him as the door appeared to break into its component atoms, leaving the bond fresh and exposed.  
  
Spock took a closer look at the bond between himself and Jim, marveling at it, heart racing as his breath came faster. It was not quite tangible, but still shimmered with a slight iridescence under his gaze, stretching off into the distance. Spock slowly reached out, not quite touching the bond, but focusing his thoughts on Jim instead, using the bond as a conduit to feel for the Human and ensure that everything was operating normally. When he did so, he felt an influx of emotion that passed to quickly for even Spock’s mind to keep up with. He backed off then, feeling guilty; Jim did not yet realize that Spock had access to his mind, and it was morally wrong to peer at Jim’s thoughts, no matter how engaging and bright Spock found them.  
  
Backing off even further, he decided to alert Jim as to the reactivated presence of the bond in the morning; Jim would not be able to feel the changes until his mind was able to compensate for the presence of the bond. Perhaps he could help Jim with accessing the bond and learning to meditate. If nothing else, the bond would help them stay in contact over long distances. Perhaps if Jim chose not to stay, he would permit contact through the bond.  
  
Spock felt faintly nauseous at the feeling that Jim might not be willing to prolong their contact. He had to acknowledge that it was a possibility though, however much he did not want to. He rose to the less intimate planes of his mind, briefly wondering what it would be like to have his innermost thoughts exposed to Jim.  
  
“Spock.”  
  
The name filtered down through Spock’s ears, eventually reverberating through his mind, pulling Spock from his meditation. He fought for a moment to clear his mind and open his eyes. Jim’s face was inches away from his own, and that thin tingle of trepidation was once more shivering in the air. Spock took in the blue of Jim’s eyes, the way his mouth was tight and spoke without thinking. “Is there something you need, Jim?” Anything that was in Spock’s control was Jim’s for the taking, especially with the bond settling in his mind and filling it with Jim’s warmth and kindness.  
  
Spock watch as Jim swallowed, clearly debating something. He inhaled once, sharply, and then asked in a rush, “Can you close your eyes for a second?” while fidgeting with his clothing. Spock wanted to place a hand over Jim’s, to send calming waves through the bond to help Jim relax, but he didn’t quite dare, at least not yet. “Well, not literally for a second. But please, just…just close your eyes, alright?” Jim continued on, despite the fact that he knew full well that Spock no longer took such phrases quite so literally.  
  
It made Spock a little uncomfortable, especially under such an intense gaze. He almost refused, but he’d already trusted Jim for so long and so completely that it seemed foolish to say no now. He shut his eyes, immediately becoming more aware of Jim’s breathing, his presence, his mild heat.  
  
And then Jim’s lips were on his.  
  
Spock was too surprised to respond at first. It was a little wetter than he’d expected, but Jim was from a wetter planet, so he supposed that was to be expected. Jim kept up the steady pressure, however, making minute adjustments so that their lips slid together in a way that was completely perfect, and hot lust began to burn in his stomach, need beginning to lick in his veins. When Jim shifted a little closer as though searching for some elusive taste, tongue flickering out but not seeking entrance, as Spock had expected he would, Spock let out a tiny little sigh, pleased when Jim swallowed it before it could make a sound in the air. He pressed forward a little more, basking in the way Jim’s lips yielded beneath his, softer and fuller than he’d imaged they’d be. Then he felt Jim’s hand against his jaw and hair, tilting his head back. Spock pressed forward, hand coming up to cup Jim’s face, instinctively seeking entrance to Jim’s mouth-  
  
Jim pulled back and Spock followed him, needing that gentle heat more than he would ever be able to describe, desperate to feel Jim‘s lips once more. Jim couldn’t be serious, he couldn’t be pulling away now. Jim let out a little breath against Spock’s lips, but before Spock could re-initiate the kiss, Jim was standing, backing towards the house.  
  
Spock stared after him through half-lidded eyes, already drunk with Jim’s flavor, the need continuing unabated. He might have even swayed slightly as he watched Jim’s chest rise and fall rapidly in the light of the house, clearly as affected by the kiss as Spock himself was. The bond in Spock’s mind was singing, was absolutely alight with the touch and Spock wanted nothing more than to drag Jim back here and make him Spock’s.  
  
In the shadows of the house, Jim’s outline could only be seen, with the sole exception of Jim’s eyes, the blue of which positively glowed. “Goodnight, Spock,” he murmured, and Spock’s sensitive ears just barely caught it, riding on a gust of wind. He disappeared into the house without a backward glance.  
  
Spock sat in the garden for a long time, hand on his lips, the memory of Jim’s mouth filling Spock’s mind. 


	11. Chapter 11

In the instant Jim awoke, he genuinely believed with all his mind, body, and soul, that he was being burned alive.  
  
There was nothing else that could explain such all consuming heat, such all consuming desire and the need for skin. It went beyond need however, into outright pain, as though his skin was two sizes too small and his heart was doing its best to spontaneously combust. He gasped, leaping from his bed, the agony of the motion making him collapse on the floor, curling in on himself as he let out a dry sob. After a horrific moment where Jim bit his lip, drawing blood as he tried not to scream from the feeling that his blood was boiling in his veins, the agony subsided to something more bearable. Jim lay on the floor, gasping, waiting for his vision to clear as his heart thundered in his chest.  
  
After a moment or two, the pain had receded enough that Jim could sit up, limbs trembling, his entire body still too hot, to tight. A headache was beginning to build in his temples, dark and fierce.  
  
“Oh God,” Jim croaked. He lifted his hands, staring at them as though he’d never seen them before in his life. The fire flared up for another few seconds, but the pain made it seem much longer. “Oh God,” he whispered when he had the breath with which to do so. His mind raced through the possibilities, but he there was only one possible reason for the fire that was flickering down his body. “Fuck. _Plak-tow_. This has to be _plak-tow_. But how am I feeling it?” His hands were shaking too badly for him to put on clothes. Instead, he just darted out in the hallway in his pajamas, heedless of the fact that the sun had just risen.  
  
He had to get to Amanda, had to get to Sarek, because everything he’d been told had slipped out of his mind between the panic and fear and pain thrumming in Jim’s bones. It didn’t matter if he woke them up; they needed to know about this as soon as possible. He stumbled down the hallway, stopping at their door and pounding on it. “Amanda!” Jim cried, and his voice was hoarse from restraining his shouts just moments earlier.  
  
When the door slid open, Amanda was clutching a light robe around herself, eyes wild and hair in disarray. Jim practically fell inside, and Amanda helped him to the nearest chair. “Sarek!” she called, and her voice was surprisingly calm. “Sarek, darling, I think it’s Time. Can you go check on Spock and get him to the Arena? I’ll handle things with Jim here and get him all set up. Would you like to call T’Pau or shall I?”  
  
Sarek walked out of the bathroom with absolute poise, despite the fact that there was a toothbrush in his mouth. Jim’s brain short-circuited for a moment at the sight, blinking up at the Vulcan owlishly. “I shall, wife,” Sarek intoned. “I will send her a message and then attend to Spock and ensure that he is successful in preparing for the ceremony.” Within the minute, Sarek was stalking out of the room, the picture of absolute calm.  
  
Jim was an absolute mess. Though the pain had receded completely to nothing more than a dull pounding, he was still sitting in the chair that Amanda had placed him in when he’d first entered their room. “Jim, look at me for a moment,” Amanda coaxed, hand under Jim’s chin so that their eyes could meet. “You’re going to need to sit in here until Sarek gets Spock out of the house, because if he sees you, well, let’s just say we won’t ever make it to the Arena. I’m going to get ready in the bathroom while you sit tight here. Breathe, Jim. It‘s going to be fine.”   
  
She looked concerned, but Jim had spent the time that Amanda had been talking to Sarek on pulling himself together. He wiped at his sweaty forehead. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to feel it like this.” He shuddered. “Does it always burn so badly?”  
  
Amanda’s expression went opaque for a brief moment, something very much like sorrow in her eyes. “Here,” Amanda said, walking over to her bedside table and unplugging her PADD from where it was charging. She handed it to Jim. “Call your parents and let them know what’s going on.” A second’s thought, and she grabbed a nearby tissue box. “Wipe your lip too.” Jim accepted the box and dabbed at his lip. It wasn’t too bad; the bleeding had already stopped and he was able to clean of the worst of the blood easily. Amanda, meanwhile, made her way to the closet, rummaging around before withdrawing an elegant and obviously well cared for set of traditional robes and disappearing into the bathroom with the armful of clothing. Jim could hear it when the sonics when started, and he stared at the PADD in his hands for a moment.  
  
He had a choice to make now, one that was making his heart thunder and his throat ache with unshed tears. But it was as he’d known the night before- and had it really only been last night?- love wasn’t enough to make this work.  
  
It took Gary a long moment to answer, and Jim knew that he’d probably woken the other man up. His hair was in disarray, and he looked surprised to see Jim calling so soon. He blinked twice, studying Jim’s face for just a second or two before he was scrambling for his clothing. “Arena?” he shouted as he got ready. “Fucking Christ, what are the odds?”  
  
“Yeah. Head over there as soon as possible. It’s already started.” Gary nodded absently, and Jim swallowed, voice cracking as he said, “Gary, I can feel it. I can feel the _plak-tow_. It’s like pure need is boiling me alive. I don’t know if I can do this.”  
  
“Jim! Jim, listen to me,” Gary gasped, coming close to the vid screen. He reached out a hand as though Gary could touch him through the screen. “Just close your eyes and breathe. I’ll be there. You can count on me. It’ll be over soon. I promise.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Jim whispered, wiping at his face again. Tears kept rising in his eyes for no apparent reason. There was nothing that Jim could say now. He‘d called Gary. He was going through with this, for better or for worse. “I’ve got to hang up now. I have to call my parents.”  
  
“Of course. I’ll see you soon, Jim.” Gary blew a kiss at Jim, but the other man just closed his eyes and turned away, clutching the PADD far too tight. It creaked ominously under his fingers, and it was a long moment before he could pull himself together.  
  
The conversation with his parents was also mercifully short, though they promised to fly out as soon s possible so they could see the official couple; he could hear his mother trying to figure out what to pack already. They were overjoyed at the news, and it just made Jim feel worse. “Have fun!” his mother finished with a wink, and Jim blanched, hanging up on them before he could say something that he would regret. Before Jim could think too much on what he’d just heard, however, the door to the bathroom opened.  
  
“Success?” Amanda asked as she came out, pinning the last of her hair into place. As usual, she was dressed with understated elegance, her only ornament a simple necklace. When Jim nodded, Amanda smiled, relieved. “Fabulous. I’m going to check and see that Sarek and Spock are gone. If they are, we can start getting you ready.”  
  
Jim could hear Amanda walking around the house, making sure that no one was there. “No, we’re good, Jim,” she called up the steps.  
  
Jim cautiously stepped out of Spock’s parent’s bedroom, coming to stand in the top of the stairs, suddenly acutely aware that he was in his boxers and a ratty old t-shirt. Amanda smiled up at him, her face relaxed. “Don’t worry, Jim, it’ll all be over soon. I assume the robes we had fitted for you are still up in your room?”  
  
“Yeah, Amanda,” Jim called back.  
  
“Great. You change into those, make sure they’re comfortable and still fit properly. I’d recommend taking a sonic shower beforehand, because you’ll be out in the hot sun and the dirt, and it’ll be nice not to feel any more grimy than you have to, because you won’t have the chance to get clean for a while afterwards. I learned _that_ the hard way. Anyways, I’m going to make us some breakfast, alright?”  
  
Jim blinked, wondering how he was supposed to eat with his stomach twisted up into the most awful knots. “Sure,” he responded weakly, and with another smile, Amanda disappeared.  
  
“Wait!” Amanda called, and Jim froze, turning back towards her. She disappeared for a few seconds, and there was a rummaging sound, as though she was searching for something. When she reappeared, Amanda’s face had flushed a dark scarlet, and she couldn’t quite look Jim in the eye. “Here.” She tossed something up the stairs, and Jim caught it automatically, turning as scarlet as Amanda when he saw what it was. “You might want to…um…prepare yourself while you’re at it, and do it well. Vulcans don’t always have the presence of mind to do little things like that, especially in the beginning.”  
  
It was official.  
  
He’d never be able to look Amanda in the eye again.  
  
He muttered something- he wasn’t even sure what- to acknowledge what Amanda had said, and then made his escape. He showered and dressed as fast as he possibly could, unable to look at the clothing or himself in the mirror, scared shitless of what it all meant, of the enormity of what he was about to do. The lube, on the other hand, was the focus of intense scrutiny. Preparing himself…God, preparing himself for Spock, in case he won. No. No, he couldn’t let himself sink into despair. He would put his trust in Gary and Gary’s ability to win, despite the fact that he wasn’t on his own planet, despite the heavier gravity, the heat, the atmosphere. If Spock was burning even half as badly as Jim had felt, he’d probably be hardly able to move. No, he’d be fine. Jim chucked the lube as hard as he could against the wall, cracking the plastic. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard.  
  
It didn’t matter if he loved Spock. They couldn’t be together, their lives were too different. Jim would be out in the stars.  
  
And Spock wouldn’t.  
  
Jim scrubbed at his face, removing all trace of the single tear that had slipped down his cheek.  
  
When Jim finally made his way downstairs, Amanda had set out a raspberry danish, complete with enough sugary glaze for Jim to overdose on it, as well as some fruit, milk, and coffee. “Not to rush you, Jim, but Sarek called to tell me that T’Pau should be here within the next fifteen minutes. She’ll do the ceremonial _Yeht t’Kala’i’fee eh Tel_ , the Rights of Challenge and Bonds, during which she’ll tell you how things will go for the ceremony proper, the _Koon-ul Kal‘i‘fee_. It’s not very long. Spock will ring the ceremonial gong to summon you with your physical senses, to represent how you are still separate beings. Sarek and I will be on the outskirts as you and T’Pau come into the Arena proper; since we‘re not your parents, we can‘t come in with you. Once inside, T’Pau will do a verbal confirmation as well as a mind meld to ensure that Spock is in fact in _plak tow_. Once all of that has been confirmed, T’Pau will take you and Spock to the _Dah’wak Estuhl Ret_ , the Twice-Touched Room, where Spock will perform the bond and you will…” Amanda cleared her throat, pausing for the first time in her frantic motions around the kitchen. “And you will submit. That’s all you have to worry about. Just don’t fight it and you’ll be fine Jim. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of food and water and comfortable pillows and whatnot in the room, so it’ll be comfortable. Relatively speaking, at any rate.” Then, as a clear afterthought, Amanda said, “Oh, and if you were going to challenge, it would be when you came into the arena, between gongs. But that’s not a concern for you,” she said with a smile, but her eyes were worried. “I wonder how Spock’s feeling,” she said, fisting her hands in her long skirts, mouth tight. “My darling boy…”  
  
There was a firm knock, and Amanda jumped. Jim was almost grateful when she left the room; she was so jittery, so anxious and excited that she’d been completely unable to sit still, and watching her made Jim feel ill. The worry in her voice as she’d talked about her son was so crystal clear that it made Jim want to run and hide. _This isn’t a betrayal_ , he tried to remind himself, hating that he‘d lost the chance to talk with Spock about this. _I’m just doing what’s right for everyone. Spock will find someone he loves, and…and he won’t need me. He never did, but I’ll be out of his life, and he’ll be out of mine_. Jim thought of that kiss that they’d shared the night previous and put a hand over his chest, as though that could stop the ache that was currently squeezing his heart.  
  
Amanda came back in with T’Pau at her side, Jim gazing at the older Vulcan woman with no small measure of trepidation. Physically, they were complete opposites, with Amanda being the personification of good cheer, even if at the moment she was affecting a more serious and solemn visage. In comparison, T’Pau was the quintessential matriarch, complete with a serious, austere expression, back straight and hands clasped behind her back. Her hair was pinned up in braids, revealing sharp cheekbones and a thin-lipped mouth. Her dark eyes caught Jim’s blue ones and held them, pining Jim in his chair.  
  
“You are James Tiberius Kirk, intended bondmate of S’chn T’gai Spock.” With her, it was a statement, not a question.   
  
Nevertheless, Jim said, “Yes, ma’am. I am James Tiberius Kirk.”  
  
“Very well.” There a single, sharp glance at Amanda. “Leave us, S’chn T’gai Amanda. I would have a private conversation with the intended.”  
  
Jim swallowed, eyes widening as Amanda nodded, placing a hand on Jim’s arm, a gesture of solidarity. “You’ll do fine.” She said in, clearly intending to reassure Jim. Jim wanted nothing more than to follow her, to run and keep running until he managed to escape this nightmare.  
  
Before Jim‘s eyes, T‘Pau grew taller, a little more severe, something Jim hadn‘t thought possible. Her voice took on an older cant, something heavier and richer. “James Tiberius Kirk, art thou prepared to sate the needs of S’chn T’gai Spock in his Time, either by soothing his fire voluntarily or being won in a contest of blood?”  
  
“I am,” Jim said instinctively.  
  
T’Pau nodded once, sharp. From there she more or less repeated what Amanda had told him, though in considerably more formal language. The worst part, however, was when T‘Pau asked him if he was prepared to submit to Spock in all things physically, to take his seed into his body willingly. Confirming that he was prepared to have sex with Spock to T‘Pau was like saying it to a grandmother, and an old and formal one at that. Beyond that, however, he simply nodded at the appropriate places, repeated the phrases that he needed to and tried not to flinch under the matriarch‘s steely gaze. Finally, T’Pau said, “I am satisfied. You will join me, James Tiberius Kirk, and we will go to the Arena. However, thou must first permit my touch; I must mind meld with thee to ensure that there is a bond between thee and S’chn T’gai Spock. Is this acceptable? I pledge to search only for the presence of the bond. All other thoughts and memories will remain untouched by mine hand.”  
  
“Sure,” Jim said awkwardly, heart racing, but unsure as to whether he dreaded T’Pau finding the fact that he was planning on challenge or not more. Jim stepped forward, allowed T’Pau to place her hand on a strange arrangement on his temple. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but there was a brief flare of something iridescent in his mind’s eye, something that he reached out instinctively to touch, to feel, to take, but the moment was broken faster than Jim had thought possible. He swayed for a moment, trying to right his brain, which insisted on seeing sounds for a few awful moments before righting itself.  
  
Jim groaned a little, nearly missing T’Pau’s short, “I see that you are S’chn T’gai Spock’s intended bondmate. I recognize the bond you hold as legitimate. The ceremony may continue.”  
  
Immediately, T’Pau went to the other room, where Amanda was waiting and said without preamble, “S’chn T’gai Amanda, you will precede us and join your bondmate. When we arrive, the ceremony will begin.” A beat of silence fell on the heels of her last phrase. For an old woman, T’Pau was surprisingly spry. When they all didn’t immediately rush to adhere to her instructions, she ushered Amanda out of the house. “I’ll see you soon, Jim,” Amanda called over her shoulder; T’Pau shut the door firmly behind her, leaving Jim alone with the matriarch.  
  
Jim immediately wished that he felt less like a mouse locked into a room with a cat.  
  
“Who is your challenger?” T’Pau asked when it was clear that Jim wasn’t going to start the conversation. It was said stiffly, coolly, even more so than when Jim had been answering questions earlier. She drew herself up, becoming even taller and imposing when Jim didn’t answer her right away. T’Pau’s voice was technically still emotionless, and she hadn’t batted so much as an eyelash, but Jim still managed to detect that there was a note of pure apathy in her voice, an apathy that cut Jim to the bone. “I will not repeat my question, as my voice was in the proper decibel range to ensure that you would be able to hear me clearly and properly.”  
  
“How did you know?” Jim asked, shock and surprise painting themselves across his face. “I hadn’t said anything to anyone!”  
  
Was that a hint of a sneer that Jim could see on T’Pau’s face? Perhaps not, since T’Pau’s control was legendary, but he was definitely not imagining the distaste in her voice when she said, “My control is such that I could sense your intentions not to go through with the bonding ceremony. It has weakened the bond. Who and where is your challenger?”  
  
“Gary. Um, Gary Mitchell,” Jim muttered, unable to look T’Pau in the face. “He’s supposed to be waiting for me outside the Arena.”  
  
“Very well. He will join us outside the walls of the Arena and enter with us as your champion. As you do not have family or friends in attendance, you will contemplate the coming challenge on your own.” T’Pau swept away, indicating without words or gestures that he should follow. Her clear dismissal of the topic made Jim swallow, looking at his feet, which just barely peeked out from beneath his robes.  
  
Jim followed T’Pau outside, where a burly, serious Vulcan helped her into an ornamental chair and two more Vulcans lifted said chair up as soon as Jim closed the door behind him. Standing in front of the chair were yet more Vulcans were shaking some sort of contraption whose whole point seemed to be to make the attached bells jingle. “You will follow my chair to the Arena,” T’Pau announced without looking at Jim. She seemed cold, impersonal, and Jim hated her just a little bit. “Come,” she commanded, and with a short motion of her head, the entire group moved forward, Jim following, feeling like a kicked puppy.  
  
It was a long walk, longer than Jim had expected, even knowing that the Arena was on the outskirts of the city. The sun had fully risen, and the normal smothering heat of the planet began to spread, and sweat began prickling at Jim’s temples and around the collar of his robes. Every step was painful as the enormity of what he was doing rattled around his skull, made worse by the gong that seemed to fill every corner of the city. In addition to the sound, each step brought more fire to Jim’s body, as though the mere fact that he was headed towards Spock was enough to summon that needy fire once more and send it licking through his veins.  
  
“That is your champion?” T’Pau said suddenly, and Jim started out of his reverie, fighting to ignore the desire crawling up his spine. He hadn’t realized that Gary was waiting out front of the gates, furtively glancing around him like he was expecting to be hauled off at any moment.  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Jim said.  
  
“Summon him.” Jim waved Gary over, but before they could even exchange hellos, T’Pau commanded, “Follow James Tiberius Kirk into the Arena. When he calls for the challenge, if he chooses you for his champion, you will step forward and fight S’chn T’gai Spock. Do you understand?”  
  
Gary swallowed; it was clear that he’d considered saying something smart, probably something about, “What did she mean, if Jim decided on me being his champion?” but decided to err on the side of caution. Jim let out a breath he didn‘t know he was holding. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in the same respectful tone that Jim had used when speaking to the matriarch.  
  
“Very well. I hear the gongs that summon Spock’s intended to the Arena. James Tiberius Kirk, dost thou hear it and answer the call as Spock’s intended?”  
  
“I do, T’Pau.”  
  
“Very well.”  
  
As they came out into the Arena proper, Jim very carefully didn’t look around for Amanda or Sarek, hyper aware of the fact that Gary was barely a step behind him. T’Pau’s chair was settled onto the dais, and Spock stepped forward.  
  
Spock.  
  
The mere sight of the half-Vulcan made it feel as though actual fire should be eating him alive. Jim could only assume that Spock’s _plak tow_ was leaking through the bond, though Jim hadn’t even known that it was open in the first place. Beneath that burning desire, however, beneath the pain of feeling like his blood was boiling, beneath feeling everything that Spock was feeling, Jim felt as though he was going to be ill all over the ground at T’Pau’s feet, mortified by what he was about to do, especially when he could sense Spock staring at him. Gary stepped into his vision, sending him what was clearly supposed to be an encouraging look, but Jim looked away. It was too late, but Jim suspected that he would regret this day for the rest of his life.  
  
The gong stopped, and nothing but the desert wind could be heard.  
  
There were no words spoken as T’Pau stepped off the dais and placed her hands on Spock’s face, performing a surprisingly brief mind meld. She stepped back then, clearly satisfied by whatever she’d seen there, and Jim felt an irrational fury boil up in him that someone had _dared_ to enter Spock’s mind, because Spock’s mind, Spock’s body, Spock’s _soul_ \- _katra_ , something in him whispered- was his, totally and completely his. Then the feeling faded, leaving Jim in a near gasp that seemed perversely loud in the quiet of the Arena. He ignored Gary completely now, unable to face the reality of what Gary represented.  
  
T’Pau stepped back from Spock, now including Jim in speech. “What you are about to see comes down from the time of the beginning, without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way. _Kah-if-farr_ ,” she intoned, and the words had a heavy weight behind them, a thousand years and more of tradition making them resonate in the air.  
  
Spock raised his hand then, raised his hand to ring the gong once more, and Jim realized that this was the moment. He needed to step forward now if he was going to challenge. If he didn’t, the moment would pass forever.  
  
Somehow, and he never knew where he’d gotten the courage- or was it cowardice?- but between one beat of the gong and the next, Jim stepped forward, inhaling sharply as Spock’s attention riveted on Jim.  
  
“ _Kal’i’fee_!” Jim bellowed, and the voice barely sounded like his own; the call was anguished, was terrified, was in a deeper pain than Jim had thought he could give voice to.  
  
There was a moment of perfect, terrible silence.


	12. Chapter 12

“He chooses to challenge,” T’Pau announced, as if the entire Arena hadn’t already been able to hear Jim’s cry.   
  
Jim finally glanced over at Spock now. There was no going back, absolutely none. He’d made his decision, and if he was going to have to live with it, he had to see what damage his decision was done. Spock…God. Perhaps it was Spock physically, but it wasn’t him mentally. There was no gentle humor in his eyes, no bright intelligence. Instead, Spock was rigid, more tightly coiled than Jim had ever seen him, practically shimmering with repressed energy. This Spock carried a primal darkness in him that Jim would have done nearly anything to ease. Seeing Spock like that made Jim wish that there was another way, that there was something, _anything_ Jim could have done to both be free and help Spock. Jim mentally begged Spock’s apology, trying to meet Spock’s eyes and tell him without words that he wasn’t doing this because he hated Spock, he was doing it because he loved him, because he couldn‘t stand to lose him, couldn‘t stand to be taken and then leave. Spock never even indicated that he was aware of Jim’s presence, however, and the mere thought that Spock might work to eradicate Jim’s memory after this made Jim feel weak at the knees. Regret and remorse swamped him, but the words were out. In a last ditch attempt, he remember the bond, and tried to shove his apology, his care, his everlasting sorrow at what he was doing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Spock didn’t even look over at him.  
  
Something in Jim died a little.  
  
When T’Pau spoke, it was as though it was coming from another world. “James Tiberius Kirk, thou hast chosen the _kal’i’fee_ , the challenge. Thou art prepared to become the property of the victor?”  
  
Property of the victor. As if he was a _thing_ to be bargained over, to be won in a contest, a bartering chip. All of his old fury over the situation rose up, mixing with the desire thrumming through his veins. He straightened his back, mouth tight. “I am prepared.” He didn’t recognize the voice of his own, because a cool fire burned in it, and Jim raised his head.  
  
T‘Pau turned to the half-Vulcan. “Spock, dost thee accept the challenge according to our laws and customs?” Spock nodded, still not so much at glancing at Jim, and Jim couldn‘t help but send another wave of despair and apology towards Spock, but it was like hitting a brick wall; nothing could get through, despite Jim‘s best efforts.  
  
“James Tiberius Kirk, thee will choose thy champion.” T’Pau informed Jim shortly, barely glancing over to the two Humans.  
  
It was as though some ancient power was speaking through Jim, making him choose his words based on the ancient Vulcan rites. “As it was in the dawn of your days, as it is today, as it will be for all tomorrows, I make my choice. This one.” Jim indicated towards Gary. “Gary Mitchell of Earth.”  
  
“Gary Mitchell, our laws and customs are not binding on thee. Thou art free to decline with no harm on thyself.”  
  
There was only a moment of hesitation, but it was one of the longest moments of Jim’s life. “I accept.”  
  
Jim’s slow exhale trembled.  
  
T’Pau nodded once. “Here begins the act of combat for possession of the man, James Tiberius Kirk. As it was at the time of the beginning, so it is now. Bring forth the _lirpa_. If both survive the _lirpa_ , combat will continue with the _ahn woon_.” Spock and Gary were busy squaring off, circling around each other, feinting with their weapons, Jim’s pulse racing, pain increasing each time one of them was hurt.  
  
Then the second part of T’Pau’s statement sunk in, and Jim’s vision narrowed dangerously.  
  
“T’Pau, what do you mean, if _both_ survive?” The voice of cold fire was back, Jim’s pulse thundering dangerously.  
  
T’Pau spared a glance for Jim, but nothing more than that before she once more faced the two being battling it out. “This combat is to the death.”  
  
“What the fuck?” Jim shrieked, and he didn’t care how he sounded, his voice like nails against the chalkboard. All that mattered where the words that were currently eating his soul. Surely he had misheard, misunderstood, misread the situation. “Who said anything about a fight to the death?” _Nononononononononononono_! He chanted over and over in his mind, the word running together. T’Pau couldn’t have possibly just said what he thought she’d said. He was doing this to save Spock, not to kill him. If he’d known that the challenge was to the death, if someone had bothered to tell him, if he’d bothered to check himself instead of obsessing over the fact that he and Spock would never work out, if he’d just told Spock how he’d felt-  
  
“I can forgive such a display only once. Challenge was given and lawfully accepted. It has begun. Let no one interfere.” T’Pau said, and she barely batted an eyelash, didn’t so much as react to Jim’s panic.  
  
Jim turned to the battle, mouth dropping open; it was clear that Gary was losing, badly; from the looks of things, he’d lose either one of his best friends or the being that he was in love with. Spock had gone completely savage, calling on the ancient rage that the Vulcan warriors had possessed in order to deal blow after devastating blow that Gary could barely defend against; the fact that Gary had trained for this, trained for the gravity and the atmosphere and the heat was doing absolutely nothing except preventing Spock from delivering the finishing blow, but it looked like it wouldn’t be long now.  
  
No.  
  
He’d fucked up a lot in this whole situation, and it was entirely possible that Spock would never forgive him for what he’d done today. It was entirely possible that Gary wouldn’t forgive him either, for doing what he was about to do. However, he loved both of them, even if he was only in love with Spock. And he would do whatever he had to in order to protect them.  
  
So he had to do it, because he refused, flatly _refused_ to have a murder on his hands.  
  
Before T’Pau or her bodyguards and the other Vulcans surrounding her could do anything, Jim was sprinting forward. He had to interrupt the fight, had to get Gary out of the way and focus Spock‘s attention on him. “Stop it! _Stop_! Oh God, please God, I revoke the challenge, I’ll have Spock, just please _stop_!” He shouted. “Enough, I’m not worth this, _enough_!” he begged. His freedom was not worth someone else’s death.   
  
Nothing was.  
  
Jim didn’t hear anyone behind him, but he sprinted even further forward, chest heaving as he tried to get to the fighters as fast as he could before T‘Pau- or rather, T‘Pau‘s minions, since he seriously doubted the old Vulcan would raise a finger against him- could catch him. “Get back!” Gary shouted, chest heaving as blood slid down his arms and back, but Jim wasn’t about to listen; Spock and Gary were using their _lirpas_ , muscles standing out as each tried to push the other back. They were more or less of a height to one another, but without question Spock was stronger, much stronger. He was quicker too, more practiced and more clever. As he bore down on Gary, muscles coiled, Jim was struck by his elegance and grace, by the way his muscles gleamed- _Nice work, Little Jim, glad to know that even in the most inappropriate of situations, you’re raring and ready to go_ \- and Jim knew without a doubt that he only had seconds before Gary was bleeding out.  
  
“No!” Jim retorted, and then he aptly demonstrated just why he’d taught self-defense classes the last two years; in a flash, he’d elbowed Gary in the solar plexus, making the man stagger back, fighting to breathe and Jim turned, leg lashing out and hitting the back of Spock’s knees, sweeping his feet out from under him. The next breath had Jim heaving both _lirpas_ out of reach, praying that it would buy him enough time to distract Spock and get Gary out of here. “Run, Gary, I don’t want you to get caught up in this-”  
  
Whatever Jim was going to say next was lost in a squeak as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist. Jim froze, hoping desperately that Spock didn’t tear him to shreds with his bare hands; as he’d demonstrated against Gary, he certainly had the power with which to do so. There was a low, growling breath right into his ear that rumbled through his body, and with Spock flush against his back, Jim knew that he was _definitely_ happy to see him. In an apt reversal of the very move he’d just used to drop Spock, the half-Vulcan knocked Jim’s legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground, cradling Jim‘s fall. From the corner of his eyes, Jim could just barely see the other Vulcans corralling Gary out of the Arena and Jim let out a breath of relief that Gary wouldn’t see him have sex on the ground in the middle of the Arena.  
  
Oh. Sex.  
  
It appeared that he hadn’t thought things through when he’d thrown the bottle of lube against the wall when he’d been at the house. Now he was completely unprepared for what was about to happen- literally and figuratively. Spock was a blaze of heat above him, and Jim felt his breath come faster as he realized that he wasn’t exactly sure how the fuck this was all supposed to go. No one had told him the details of _pon farr_ beyond the fact that it involved sex and Jim was supposed to submit to Spock. As Spock began clawing at his robes, Jim twisted under Spock, breath hitching as Spock trapped Jim with nothing more than his weight and one hand. It was sexy, sure- at least in theory- but actually having Spock looming over him, actually being completely unable to move, completely at Spock mercy for whatever Spock wanted to do with him- the very thought made Jim fight Spock’s grip. This wasn’t Spock, not completely; Jim searched his face, his eyes for the reason and intelligence that Spock normally held so dear, but it couldn’t be found.  
  
The fact that Jim had tried to move away from him made Spock immediately growl, a low rumbling sound that vibrating through Jim’s skin and right down to his cock. Jim gasped a little, stilling obediently as Spock began tearing at Jim’s clothing even harder, laying possessive nips and bites on the exposed skin. Some of the bites hurt, genuinely hurt and not in an entirely pleasant way. “Spock, please! I’m here, slow down,” Jim told the half-Vulcan, but words meant nothing to Spock right now; Jim might as well have not said anything for all the effect it had.  
  
Jim started to panic, started to struggle even more when Spock made that growling sound again, but this time it was pure warning. _Submit, submit_ , Jim remembered; it was the only thing that Jim had been told over and over again, the only real piece of advice that he‘d been given. He could do that, he could submit if that’s what was necessary to sate Spock’s _pon farr_. He took a deep breath and relaxed his body as best he could, no longer struggling or fighting against Spock’s grip, against his body. When Jim stilled, so did Spock. “ _Tu vit’nashal_.” Spock smeared the words against Jim’s skin, licking the bruises that were already beginning to blossom on Jim‘s skin from Spock‘s attentions. “ _Nashal_.”  
  
“What?” Jim asked, and the burning that he’d felt in varying degrees since he’d woken up that morning was beginning to overtake him again, and he tried to lean up and capture Spock’s lips, the memory of their kiss from the night before suddenly not enough. He needed skin on skin, needed more than anything to have Spock kissing him, needed to have Spock over him, in him, marking him now and for the rest of his life. He needed to be owned, to be taken, to let Spock do whatever he wanted to Jim’s body. The desire was surging, keeping Jim from being able to think properly, to think about anything but how it might feel to suck on the soft skin of Spock’s hip, to feel Spock’s cock rubbing against his prostate, to know that he was Spock’s in all possible ways. The Vulcan that Spock had been using should have been easy to understand, but Jim couldn’t focus enough to actually figure out what Spock had said. It was all about the physical right now, all about touching and being touched.  
  
“ _Nem-tor. Sha_.” Spock shifted now, ripping off his own clothing in about two seconds flat with Jim’s help. The clothing was tossed away so it wouldn’t impede the proceedings. Jim sucked on a nipple, loving when Spock threw back his head and groaned, chest pushed forward to get more contact, more pressure. When Jim pulled back, the mark was flushing a deep green, and Jim smiled lasciviously before attacking the other nipple, attempting to push Spock down, scraping his nails down Spock‘s sides and leaving thin lines of green that quickly were dotted with blood. Spock was having none of Jim’s control however, and trapped Jim under him yet again before discarding the rest of Jim’s clothing and settling himself on Jim’s hips. Jim arched up, groaning a little in complaint, since with Spock on top of him, he wasn’t able to get a good look at Spock’s body, wasn‘t able to explore all of the little things that would make Spock groan, make him whine, make him beg Jim for release. Jim’s arms were still pinned above his body, and now Spock was pressing down, rubbing his red-hot erection against Jim’s stomach, shuddering at the pressure, smearing pre-come on Jim’s body. Jim arched up, beginning to enjoy the sensations now as his blood grew hotter, as Jim began to crave more and more and more.  
  
 _Is this me? Just a minute ago wasn’t I…_ thought escaped his grasp, slipping away like smoke. Jim’s eyes fluttered shut as Spock worked his way down Jim’s body. Each time Spock nipped or bit Jim, a flare of pain made Jim moan, unsure whether it was pleasurable or truly painful. Either way, it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. _I’m not Vulcan, but I’m burning. I need Spock. Oh, God, I need him. I need him more than anyone. The bond_ \- The rest of Jim’s thoughts were obliterated in a shower of pain as, without warning or preparation, Spock pushed into him.  
  
He’d let Gary take him dry once, and _only_ once when they’d both been too drunk to remember such little things as lubricant. It was a memory that was burned into his body. It had hurt like a bitch then when he’d done it then, the feeling of being stretched way past the point of anything even remotely comfortable. He’d been sore for days after that, and he’d thought he would need to go to Starfleet Medical in order to get his ass looked at, since he definitely had some bleeding. Of course, he’d forced Gary to make it up to him in spades, and he’d had more blow jobs in that week than he had in the previous two months.  
  
It hurt even worse now; in a way, the stretch wasn’t as bad as the sheer heat that seemed to be burning his walls, sinking into every sensitive spot and roasting the raw and sensitive skin. Jim let his head fall back, gasping at the pain, and any hardness he’d had earlier had been irrevocably lost as Spock started to thrust without giving Jim so much as a second to adjust to the fullness. He cried out, and though it hurt, he couldn’t stop tearing at Spock’s mouth, sucking on his tongue, gripping his shoulders and scraping at the skin there, drawing blood. He kept pushing back through the thrusts, letting Spock swallow his moans and gasps and swallowing Spock’s in turn. “ _Nashal, t'nash-veh ma. Yontau k’na-veh_.” Spock hissed into Jim’s ear, sucking a hickey to life right underneath the lobe. “ _Nashal_.”  
  
“Yes…” Jim moaned, turning his head to expose more skin, something about the words satisfying a primal urge as he clenched down around Spock, needing Spock to come more than anything, needing Spock to finish in him, to be claimed by the most ancient of Vulcan rituals. Spock shuddered then, and his hot semen positively _scalded_ Jim’s inner walls, but anything he might have said or done was trapped behind Spock’s lips before it could escape into the air. He clutched at Spock through the entire affair, desperate to anchor himself to the only thing that was real, the only thing in the entire universe that actually mattered and was gratified when Spock clutched at him in return, letting their breaths mingle as they tried to get in enough oxygen.  
  
The burning banked then, for just a moment, and it was as though Jim was waking up, suddenly aware of more than Spock’s skin, his breath, his mouth, the musky scent that had gotten so much stronger than usual in the fire that was _pon farr_. Spock collapsed down on him, and his hot limbs and torso made Jim start sweating even more profusely as his body responded to being trapped between the heat of his bondmate and the heat of the ground. His entire body ached ferociously, as though he’d just fought in a battle instead of having sex. Jim blinked woozily, staring at the sky, trying to comprehend what the fuck had just happened without much success. Spock had come, that much was evidenced by the fact that something was dripping down his leg, far too warm to have come from a Human. He could just see one ear and some of Spock‘s dark hair, since Spock’s face was currently buried against his neck, puffs of breath heating the skin beneath his mouth and making Jim feel tingly in all sorts of interesting places despite the pain.  
  
Spock was already moving again, before Jim was anything more than mildly coherent. Spock sat up, and the tide surged again, drowning Jim in need and fire, sucking him under with the sheer force of the desire running through his veins. With a smooth movement, Spock raised a hand and rested in on Jim’s face, in the same way that T’Pau had earlier; however her hands hadn’t been like a brand against Jim’s skin. Spock looked at him with stark hunger in his eyes; he was prepared to take, if need be, but he would prefer it if Jim agreed. With the fire twining around him, Jim had no words. Instead he wrapped a hand around Spock’s wrist and kissed him, more a clash of teeth and tongue than anything else.  
  
Jim’s memory of their last mind meld was of a pure, silvery note that shivered in the air, an impression of heat and tension that had built between them before being broken abruptly, more abruptly than Jim had been happy with. There had been something there, that Jim could admit, but the meld had been somewhat vague at best.  
  
Jim’s last meld with Spock hadn’t been full of that scorching, all-consuming passion, hadn’t been so powerful that it felt as though Spock had set his entire mindscape aflame. Jim’s last meld with Spock had been a meld with Spock- not a meld that produced one being, having fused their minds together until there was no possible escape. There was no Jim or Spock anymore, just a series of blazing emotions.  
  
Rage was predominant, and had many sources. It was a jumble of _I-am-not-a-_ thing _-How-dare-he-challenge-He-hurt-me-I-want-my-own-life_ , a furious boil of energy that made it impossible for anything but the anger to be sensed. Wrapped up in that anger was a soul-deep betrayal that even when they’d promised to be one, they’d _never_ been one. The betrayal made kindness cut like a sword, made love a dagger to the heart, wielding every good moment they’d shared as though it were a weapon. It made the being that was Jim-and-Spock tear at skin with the intention to bruise, to mark, to take. The only thing that kept them from true, permanent damage was the soul-deep satisfaction that the mate- for there was no ‘I’ here, and there was no ‘he’- was theirs, that they were each others, that they were _mine_ in a way that could never be stopped, never be changed. It was a vicious, self-absorbed satisfaction that made them turn to pleasure as a weapon, to let the other know that each owned the other’s physical gratification, that there was no way to find this all-abiding pleasure-pain in another.  
  
It was the _mine_ , the acknowledgement that there would be no other, that there _could_ be no other that allowed the sorrow and regret to creep forward, edging out the rage, though the fury still blazed in the center of their minds. They kissed now with a hint of apology on their lips. The sorrow and regret grew and twined with a desperate need for understanding of the _I-couldn’t-leave-you-We’re-not-the-same-I’ve-always-hoped-This-is-reality_ that bled from the two separate beings that existed on the physical plane. They touched gently for reassurance that the other was still there despite everything, despite the sadness and insecurity that both had used as a shield. They laved bruises and kissed away blood, the pressure on the wounds reminding them that they were there in the first place, reminding them of the reason that they’d been made, reminding them that all was not forgiven, not yet, for all they might regret the path that they‘d taken to get to this point.  
  
Through it all there was only _them_ , only the sense that the conflicting sources of the anger didn’t matter because it was still present, still theirs, still overflowing in that single mind. Sorrow, regret, need, desire, rage, frustration- they all flourished in that one mind that existed, for all intents and purposes theirs. They lived it, they breathed it, and it was the center of their universe.  
  
The being that was Jim broke off a little, soul battered and unused to the strain of so deep a meld, desperate for something to cling to, something to moor his sense of self against the coming storm that he could feel rousing, desperate to protect himself from that heartbroken fury that was starting to resound in that shared mind.  
  
There- at the center, at the eye of the storm, anchoring everything was that iridescence that Jim had sensed earlier when T’Pau had touched him- _but no, no one would touch his mind now because it was_ his _and_ he _would not allow it. Jim’s mate demanded submission, because there could be no one that would not fall in love with Jim’s mind and therefore none could be permitted to see it, because it was_ his- the iridescence that had seemed to be nothing more than a flicker. It had been weak then and it was weaker still now, horribly abused and quickly fading, broken by mutual mistrust and a lack of communication, broken by secrets and lies and deep agonizing pain that both had refused to share. It was like a fraying cord, snapping slowly at first and then faster even as Jim watched it. The cord, the iridescence that had come from their attraction, their kindness, their laughter, their joy, their empathy for one another, all of the good parts of the time that they’d shared together had nearly been wiped out by the devastating sense of loss. Jim caught hold of it and wrapped himself around it as tightly as he could, sinking into the bond, _becoming_ the bond, becoming aware of what was held at the core-  
  
Love.  
  
Time stopped.  
  
In that moment, he knew without doubt that he loved Spock and Spock loved him. In that love, he saw the means to repair it, the means to rebuild the trust that had been so expertly destroyed. From his position within the bond, _as_ the bond, Jim found the moments that had engendered trust, the ecstasy, the deep pleasure at each other’s company, at each other’s very existence and pulled them into the bond, wrapping those fragile moments around the core of the bond as protection. The bond stopped flickering, and something in Jim absolutely exploded with joy that he’d managed to save it, managed to heal some of the damage.  
  
But it wasn’t enough.  
  
Jim hunted, but his memories could only stabilize the bond, could only stop it from disappearing completely. To strengthen it, he needed the memories of the other, which would act as counterpoint to his own. The bond needed Spock, needed Spock desperately, and Jim pulled it forward, pulled it with him in his search for all the pieces of Spock that had been scattered around the mindscape. Jim pulled all the pieces of his bondmate that he could find together, pulling them into the bond and keeping them there, wrapping his essence around Spock, around the bond until there was no way to figure out where one began and the other ended. When he’d found as many pieces of Spock as he could, Jim stared at bond, heart plummeting. Jim had patched things to the best of his ability, completing the bond from his end just as everything in him had cried for him to do, but it wasn‘t enough for the bond to be brought fully back to life. Jim surveyed his work, a touch of exhaustion flooding over him. He’d tried to repair it, tried to link Spock into the bond, tried to take Spock’s essence into him and tried to place his own into Spock, but he‘d failed.  
  
He’d destroyed his once chance utterly.  
  
Jim wondered if it was possible to cry in your mind, because if he’d really been able to fix things, he should be able to sense Spock, and there was nothing there. There was nothing that Jim could sense for a terrible moment and Jim felt ill, despair rising at the fact that he’d miscalculated things, that he’d somehow made things worse instead of better. Though the bond was at least whole again, it wasn‘t thriving, it didn‘t have the vitality and joy and sheer exuberance that it had exhibited even a few hours earlier and was even beginning to fade once more without the support of Spock. In fact the iridescence that Jim had fallen in love with the first time he’d seen it dazzling him was almost entirely missing, slowly fading out. Jim espied the anger and betrayal and fear and sorrow and pain still filling their mindscape, still threatening to tear apart their bond, and he let out a sob, because he couldn’t stop things on his own, he couldn’t stop everything from falling apart.  
  
He was a failure, and he’d ruined everything.  
  
And then a set of arms wrapped around his torso, in this world and in the physical one, and the word _MINE_ thundered in him, and the wave of relief and happiness was crippling.  
  
There was only one response that Jim could give.  
  
 _YOURS_.  
  
Before his eyes, that thin, delicate cord grew stronger, thicker, fighting its way through the rage and the hurt that they’d inflicted on it, making them fade, and even if they didn’t disappear, they certainly became manageable and no longer dominated their mindscape. In their wake warmth exploded, and they worked to uncover more of it, worked together to discover the trust and need and certainty that had been underneath everything, and their minds send up a song of sheer joy, no longer that thin trembling note from their childhood, but a symphony, a master orchestration that they used to wind themselves tighter around each other.  
  
It was several moment before Jim realized that it was all familiar, too, all of it. He was familiar with that love that swelled so joyfully in the bond, recognized that it had sprung from him, recognized that it was his love for Spock. He felt a small laugh rising in him, and wondered if he could pin down the moment he’d begun to love Spock to a single moment, a single instant, but knew in his heart of hearts that his love had come from a billion different moments in which the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. And then he realize that his need for that love wasn’t his own- it was Spock’s. Spock craved his love, craved it like it was water and he‘d spent his entire life wandering around in the desert, a comparison that was more apt than even Jim could believe. Of course, he could do nothing less than give it away to Spock freely, and realized that the trust, the love, the need, everything that he’d seen in himself in the night in the garden was echoed in Spock, and he felt Spock’s incandescent joy that Jim returned his feelings. This love had been growing all along, growing with them, growing between them, and they didn’t have to fight because they were on the same side, they’d _always_ been on the same side, and they twisted around each other, letting their emotions speak for themselves, healing emotional wounds not only of their own making, but the marks that had been left by others.  
  
With that knowledge came the distant acknowledgement that on the physical plane Jim was clinging to his bondmate as though trying to get inside his skin because he was safe there, he was loved there. There was no such thing as ‘close enough’ and they were both moving desperately, too keyed up to even kiss properly, because everything was about the motion of Spock’s fast, hard pace, the brilliant sparks of pleasure that was Jim’s prostrate receiving a direct attack, Jim’s cooler body around Spock, clenching, driving them towards the inescapable orgasm that was simply waiting to crash over them.  
  
It was the exact same situation in their mindscape. Jim barely had to think about Spock before he found the sense of his bondmate in his mind and felt greedy fingers, _Spock’s_ greedy fingers capturing the dynamics of his mind and bringing them forward until it was crushed against Spock’s normally ordered mind, though _pon farr_ had pretty much destroyed any possibility of logic for the time being, letting the edges of their thoughts bleed together. Jim found himself responding joyously to the fact that Spock’s mind was so desperate to cling to him, and he clung right back, arching into that mental touch just as he was arching into Spock’s physical one, letting Spock swamp his senses, letting Spock _become_ his senses, fucking and being fucked, until everything was just a constant litany of _SpockSpockSpock_ until a moment where Spock stilled, and Jim’s insides were being scalded with liquid fire again, but somehow that morphed into a white-hot pleasure that flung him over the edge and rejoiced when Jim flew.


	13. Chapter 13

Jim drifted, for a time. He wasn’t sure- and didn’t care- how long he spent knowing nothing more than all-consuming pleasure. He could bask like that forever, satisfaction curling in his abdomen, with the heat of Spock against him and his body practically humming with the residual pleasure that refused to leave him.  
  
However, needs must, and Spock slid out of his body the same time that he slid out of Jim’s mind, though he stayed on top of Jim, limbs akimbo and head resting in the curve where Jim’s shoulder met his neck. Jim groaned a little at the movement, because he _really_ was too sore for that right now, and if the pain was anything to go by, he’d need to visit a Healer before Jim would be able to do that again.   
  
Though Spock’s mind had pulled back, Jim was thankful for the fact that Spock hadn’t disappeared completely, the touch of his mind lingering on the outskirts of Jim’s, their connection banked but still present. They were two separate entities again, they were Jim and Spock, but they were still mingled in some middle ground, like a Venn diagram where they used common ground to overlap, and that _definitely_ wasn’t his thought that had ghosted along the front of his mind, and a roll of subtle laughter followed Jim’s conclusion.  
  
“St’p laughin’ at me,” Jim grumbled, voice a dry croak and he realized that it was the first time that he’d consciously used his voice in an undetermined amount of time.  
  
It was about at that time that they realized that they were both lying on the ground, in the middle of the Arena, naked and with their clothing all but destroyed and in dire need of both food and water. A dull headache was beginning to throb in Jim’s temples, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his overwhelming thirst or as a side effect of the massive mental strain he’d undergone to complete the bond with Spock. As before, after the meld with T’Pau, Jim’s senses were all screwy. He shut his eyes, attempting not to dwell on the fact that he was currently smelling colors, his brain feeling far too large for his skull. He lifted a hand to his forehead as the pounding increased, nausea starting to rise in his stomach as the pleasure faded.  
  
He hadn’t decided more than he was going to risk his nausea in order to find some water to slake his thirst before Spock had scooped him up, cradling Jim in his arms, one hand shielding him from the worst of the sun. Jim squeaked at the fast motion, freezing in Spock’s arms as his stomach roiled unpleasantly for a long moment, unsure of how he felt to be cradled in Spock’s arms like that. It seemed like something ridiculous to be worried about, because Spock’s come was dripping out of his ass and his own was spread liberally across his chest and Spock’s, but being held like this seemed more intimate than sex in some ways. Before he could fight it, however, before he could fight the grip and sink back into the fear and anger that had flared in his heart that he’d suffered from at the beginning of the affair, Spock peppered Jim’s forehead with kisses, trying to smooth his furrowed brow. The touch eased Jim’s headache, much to his surprise, and kept the emotional and physical pain at bay. Even his nausea eased. With his eyes closed and his entire body focused on where his skin touched Spock’s, Jim’s senses slowly started to re-align and the strain began leaving his body. He relaxed into Spock’s arms, hiding his face in Spock’s chest as though by not seeing the destruction around him, the marks of their passage, Jim could ignore the fact that his life was in ruins.  
  
“ _Ri ivil, ashaya, t‘hy‘la_.” The words filled Jim’s mind and ears, and though Jim didn’t have the mental capacity to translate the words, not with his brains so thoroughly scrambled, Jim understood the sentiment behind the language, and he clutched Spock, trusting that he and his bondmate would be able to figure out what they were going to do next. That thought earned Jim some soul-sucking kisses, a slow slide of tongue against tongue that served to remind Jim that his body was still aching from their earlier activities, the bruises and cuts that Spock had raised on his body flaring with pain. Spock kissed him softly when Jim winced, and he tasted an apology there. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, so he simply accepted it, kissing Spock back without reservation even when the motion made more heat spill into his mind, reminding Jim without reservation that Spock was still going through _pon farr_ , that this wasn’t over quite yet.  
  
He was so caught up in Spock’s body, in his mind, that he didn’t even realize that Spock had been carrying Jim anywhere specific until he’d been placed onto a low bed covered in soft pillows. Spock smoothed a hand across Jim’s face, thumb rubbing over his cheek, wiping away the worst of the dust. Spock’s pupils were wide with arousal still, and he leaned down to lave a hickey that he’d sucked to life on Jim’s neck earlier, the heat of his tongue easing the sting. Spock climbed into bed next to Jim, shuddering a little as he instinctively sucked Jim’s nipple and rubbed little circles on Jim’s hip, only to catch the edge of his nail against a scrape that had scabbed over. Jim stiffened, yelping at the bright flare of pain. Spock was completely motionless until Jim relaxed, distress leaking through their bond. Spock murmured something that didn’t quite have the feel of true words to it; it was more a sound of instinctive regret, the closest thing Spock could come to verbalizing an apology for the moment. After another moment of drinking in Jim’s scent, of running his fingers delicately across Jim’s skin, Spock pulled most of his body away, though he dove back at the last minute, nuzzling Jim’s neck for a moment as though he couldn’t bear to be parted even by so few centimeters before sitting up, shaking his head a little as if to clear it.  
  
He looked around the room, and Jim looked around with him. He could only assume that it was the _Dah’wak Estuhl Ret_ , since the room practically oozed sex. It was a large, open room with enormous windows on three of the four walls covered by sheer curtains which fluttered in the wind, keeping the room tolerably cool. The bed that Jim and Spock were sitting in was in the middle of the room; it was also more comfortable than anything Jim had laid on in a long time, complete with opulent pillows and soft covers that invited you to sink into their depths and never come out. Everything was in warm colors, reds and oranges and the occasional shade of deep purple, giving the room a lush look. Against one wall was a series of dark cabinets and a fridge that Jim could only assume held various supplies such as food and water. And then there was the bedside table, which held an enormous pitcher of water in a container specifically designed to keep it cold, along with a set of glasses, several hypos and an enormous bottle of lubricant. It was all within reach of the bed, guaranteeing that whatever Vulcan was going through _pon farr_ wouldn’t have to stop touching his bondmate until his Time had passed.  
  
While he’d been taking in the room, Spock had filled one of the glasses with the cold water, holding it out to his bondmate. Jim let out a tiny sigh of relief, and began to sit up. When Jim’s body protested sitting up fully, however, the earlier marks inflicted flaring with a pervasive dull ache that made Jim want nothing more than to sleep, Spock helped Jim up with a careful hand, conscious of all the bruises the littered every inch of his body. The cold water helped, however, and Jim sipped gratefully, letting the coolness settle into his belly. When he was done, Jim indicated that Spock should drink, and Jim’s attention was riveted as Spock swallowed. A single drop of water escaped and Jim surged up to lick it off, the cool water and hot skin making a perfect juxtaposition in Jim’s mind, lust and love and desire beginning to build again, allowing him to ignore his bruises. Spock swallowed convulsively, and Jim nibbled at his throat, ignoring his aches and pains so as to slake the heat, as though Spock’s body would cool him off instead of make him burn brighter. The pain was becoming more unmanageable as time passed, however, and that headache was building again, hot and tight and in no way conducive to having sex. “ _Shom-tor, t‘hy‘la_ ,” Spock murmured against his temple as he lowered Jim back down onto the bed and made sure that Jim was supported on all sides by pillows, as comfortable as he could be.  
  
Distracted by the echo of Spock’s _pon farr_ through the bond and by the expanse of skin that was being displayed, Jim never noticed that Spock had picked up a hypo. However, the gentle hiss against his neck, and the sudden absence of pain made Jim relax back against the pillows, eyes slipping closed. He let out a long sigh, head lolling, sinking into the comfortable bed. “Thank you,” Jim said, because it had reached the point that he couldn’t remember a time where every movement hadn’t been coated in agony. He wondered belatedly if he should try saying it in Vulcan, since Spock seemed to be completely unable to articulate his thoughts in Standard, but his pain free body was making him slip into languor and he wanted nothing more than to have Spock lay against him and sleep. Instead, Spock went rifling through the drawers of the bedside table and came out with an old-style antiseptic wipe that he ripped open, immediately tending to the worst of the bloody scrapes all over Jim’s body. Jim could see the practicality of them; it was clear that Spock was in no mindset to be operating the more delicate machinery which would do the same thing to a greater degree- wipes would not be broken accidentally or misused. It was enough for Jim, however, to be at least mildly clean again, the worst of the dust and dirt and semen and blood removed from his skin. From there Spock rubbed a mysterious ointment into the worst of the bruises and cuts. Spock’s satisfaction thrummed through the bond when the marks practically disappeared before Jim’s eyes, fading as though they’d undergone a week’s worth of healing.  
  
Between the antiseptic wipes and the balm, Jim felt more languid than ever, the coolness spreading, keeping his blood from boiling in his veins. Of course, before he could fall asleep, Jim jerked; Spock was now investigating his ass, smoothing the ointment over the worst of the chafing there, going so far as to wriggle a finger up his swollen hole, making Jim try to crawl away when the sparks of pain coursed up his spine. However, as before, after a long moment Jim sagged when the ointment began working, coolness spreading. He could practically feel the skin mending, and once more the absence of pain was a drug of its own.  
  
Spock bent down then, rough tongue swiping over Jim’s hipbone, a point of pleasure that joined the overwhelming release that had come with his lack of pain. He pressed kisses to each of the marks as he made his way up to Jim’s lips, licking into his mouth, a sweet haze creeping over Jim’s vision. “ _Mine_ ,” Spock whispered into Jim’s mouth, and the very fact that it was in Standard made Jim pause in what he was doing, the fires of _pon farr_ taking a backseat for a moment.  
  
“Spock?” Jim asked uncertainly, sitting up.  
  
Spock straddled his hips, pinning Jim’s arms above his head the same way he’d done earlier. “ _MINE_ ,” Spock growled, sucking on Jim’s bottom lip.  
  
It was clear he was expecting a certain answer. “ _Yours_ ,” Jim sighed against Spock’s lips, a concession, a belief, a reassurance.  
  
“Yes,” Spock hissed, hot breath trailing over Jim‘s face. “We must converse, later, when my Time has passed.” Each word left Spock’s mouth slowly, as though it required great thought and struggle to have strung that sentence together. “But let there be no doubts that you are _mine_ , Jim,” and Jim’s name spoken in that deep, growling voice, smeared against his skin made him shudder and arch up into Spock’s body. Each word cost Spock something, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to stop speaking until he’d gotten his point across. “Mine and _only_ mine. If another _ever_ touches you like I have, I will make their blood spill across the ground without remorse. Had I known that the need existed, I would have fought Gary long before my Time and shown the world that you cannot be touched by another.” He couldn’t stop himself from leaning up and sucking on Jim’s fingers, a primal joy rising when Jim’s eyes dilated, indicating that his arousal was growing, as was Spock’s. When Spock let go with an obscene pop, Jim let his head fall back, eyes slipping close as he let out a low moan.  
  
Spock spent a moment fighting for control, breath hot against Jim’s neck. He sucked at the skin there for a moment, unable to keep from touching Jim as much as possible. “Since you are _mine_ ,” Spock growled out, and his voice was rough and dark and made Jim shiver just from hearing it, “I will fight for you in all things, even if that means fighting you to make you understand that you belong here, with me. We _will_ make this work.”  
  
“Spock, that’s why I challenged in the first place, because I wasn’t sure that we could, and I couldn’t do that to you-” Jim started, voice wavering as all his old insecurities flooded back, but Spock lifted his head, pinning Jim with his gaze. Jim cried out when a stream of lust, of desire, of confidence and surety and love flooded his mind from Spock’s end of the bond.  
  
“It seems that you must be convinced,” Spock rumbled.  
  
Jim abruptly came to the conclusion that he was in very big trouble.  
  
Spock started out slow, lulling Jim into a false sense of security with his soft kisses, just barely brushing Jim’s lips in a slow slide that nevertheless made Jim‘s head spin. There was no tongue involved, and barely any skin; Spock was holding himself away from Jim’s body; the only points of contact were Spock’s one hand, a brand against his wrists where they were pinned in place, their lips, and Spock’s knees on either side of his hips. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough to give Jim what he wanted and with a groan of frustration Jim fought against Spock’s grip to try and slide his tongue into the blistering heat of Spock’s mouth, needing to taste the coppery, fruity musk. He let out a little whine, needing more contact, more pressure, needing to be smothered in Spock.  
  
Spock made a dark, pleased sound in return, and Jim realized that he’d done exactly what Spock had wanted; he’d capitulated first, his façade cracking and showing Spock just how much Jim needed him already, simply by being kissed by him.  
  
Make that very, _very_ big trouble.  
  
Having tricked Jim’s concession out of him, Spock gave Jim exactly what he wanted, crushing their lips together, sucking on Jim’s tongue, relishing the iron note in Jim’s saliva. He sucked relentlessly on Jim’s lower lip, laving the skin which was already kiss-swollen. Spock then turned to running his tongue over the roof of Jim’s mouth expertly. Every one of Jim’s little sighs was swallowed down. Spock controlled the kiss utterly, drawing out every drop of Jim’s pleasure. When Spock finally released Jim’s mouth, Jim gasped, sucking in the oxygen that had been denied to him in Spock‘s single mindedness.  
  
Spock moved onto Jim’s ears, kissing the shell before peppering kisses down Jim’s racing pulse to his collar bones. Spock spent several more moments investigating what happened when he scraped his teeth over them, making a low, satisfied sound when Jim gasped, chest heaving at the rough pleasure that resulted. “Yes,” he hissed, arching his back. Of course, that brought Spock’s attention to Jim’s nipples. Spock released Jim’s hands so he could slide down Jim‘s body, glaring at him when Jim dared to move them. Jim quickly raised them once more, keeping them above his head, which resulted in his chest being laid completely bare for Spock’s attentions. Jim’s breath came quicker in anticipation.  
  
Spock started out simply, just rubbing his fingers lightly over Jim’s nipples, barely more than a phantom touch. Jim twisted his hands in the pillows above his head, staring at the ceiling, little gasps and whines escaping. His nipples had always been sensitive, but the light touch was driving him insane. As though he’d sensed the thought, Spock increased the pressure, rubbing with both the pads of his fingers and alternating with scraping his nails over the already taut nubs. Jim couldn’t help it when he started keening. “Please,” Jim grunted, trying to press into Spock’s hands and thereby gain more pleasure. “God, Spock,” Jim begged, “Please.” Spock took mercy on Jim, finally lowering his head and sucking Jim’s nipples, teeth scraping over the tight skin while his hands raised red lines on Jim’s ribs. Jim’s hands twisted even faster in the pillow above his head, and he couldn’t tell if Spock’s blistering heat against his raw nipples was absolute torture or exquisite pleasure.  
  
When Spock finally pulled away, admiring his handiwork, Jim’s nipples were red and taut, glistening with sweat and Spock’s saliva. With a gentleness that belied his earlier aggressiveness, Spock placed a delicate kiss on each nipple. Jim sucked in a breath. “Yes, please,” Jim begged again, and he was gripping the pillows tightly, fabric straining against his fingers, body shuddering, tingles racing up and down his body. “More. God, Spock, _more_.”  
  
Spock glanced up, and there was something positively primeval in those dark eyes, the pupils blown out wide. Spock stared at Jim’s face, drinking in Jim’s flushed face, the tiny ring of blue surrounding a sea of black and the swollen mouth. Spock surged up for a moment to steal another kiss, nipping at Jim’s lips. Jim couldn’t help it then; with his hands free, he wound them around Spock’s neck and used his grip to pull Spock’s body down, limbs and torso completely flush, heavy erections rubbing against each other for the first time. The sheer heat of the moment had Jim making inarticulate, desperate noises against Spock’s lips. He could have come just from that, just from rubbing against one another, the wet heat of Spock’s cock sliding against his lower abdomen in an absolutely heavenly fashion. He threw one leg up around Spock, using the leverage to tug him down even further, but Spock was much stronger than Jim was, and Spock easily withstood the attack, pulling away completely.  
  
Jim let out a sound that was shamefully near a sob, but Spock simply made his way down Jim’s body again, placing an idle kiss here and there, sucking an old bruise back to life elsewhere, steadfastly ignoring Jim’s arousal for his own reasons. Jim tangled his fingers with Spock‘s, clenching tight, using Spock as a focus for his overwhelming need.  
  
For the first time, Spock made a true sound in response, a little sigh of pleasure escaping him, a noise that Jim felt more than heard. Startled by the noise, Jim gripped Spock’s hands a little tighter, rubbing at the soft skin on the back of his hands. Spock stopped what he was doing and swayed a little, blissful expression creeping over his face. Jim grinned, lascivious and wicked, and flipped Spock over before the half-Vulcan could sense his intention, bringing Spock’s hands to his mouth. Spock gazed up at him, eyes hooded, drinking in the sight of Jim above him while Jim drank in the sight of Spock splayed below him. He deliberately sucked on one finger at a time, watching with glee as Spock’s pupils blew out even further- something he hadn’t thought possible- as he focused on what Jim was doing. Jim paid special attention to the pad of each finger, scraping his teeth over it, bringing forth a green flush that he found positively delightful. Jim kissed the skin of Spock’s palm next, grinning when the feel of Jim’s lips against the sensitive skin made Spock shiver, head tilting back to expose the long, clean lines of his neck. Jim sucked the skin, thrusting his tongue against the soft flesh of Spock’s palm with a wild abandon, smearing praises across Spock‘s hands. Spock keened, absolutely _keened_ , but before Jim could do anything more, he was flat on his back once more.  
  
“Later,” Spock promised in a voice that was more a guttural groan than anything, and Jim was surprised that he was able to get that much out, let alone that it was in Standard.  
  
It was about at that point that Jim stopped thinking, his brain practically leaking out of his ears. He figured that he could be forgiven, because Spock had swallowed Jim practically down to the root, nose brushing Jim’s bronze curls, a clear act of revenge for turning the tables on him. Jim let out a cry that rang out through the room, a raw sound torn from his throat. Spock’s mouth was nothing but blistering, wet suction that had Jim’s hips flying off the bed, trying to get deeper into that heat, into that blazing inferno that had melted all higher brain function clean away. Spock had to hold his hips down, swallowing around Jim, and the pressure made Jim moan obscenely. His hands gripped Spock’s hair, trying not to tug at it, trying not to hyperventilate, simply lost in the pleasure that was making him shudder, making him arch, making him pray for release. “Nngh,” Jim begged, trying to get more, more blazing heat, more suction, more, just _more_. Spock lashed his tongue directly beneath Jim’s head, rough tongue pressed against the large vein there. There was a noise filling the air, something high and desperate and needy, but Jim wasn’t conscious enough to realize that it was him. His orgasm built, a slow burn in his lower abdomen that approached with surprising swiftness.  
  
And then Spock released him, and the sudden exposure to the comparative cold of the room made Jim’s breath hitch, the most urgent part of his need fading without Spock‘s mouth on him. He lifted his head to complain, only to drop it again, hands going from gripping Spock’s hair to gripping the bed sheets. Spock immediately set to licking Jim’s balls, tongue running gently over the sensitive skin and making Jim see lights. As Spock did so, his hand came up to run lightly up and down his length, curling around the base ever so slightly, the miniscule friction not _nearly_ enough to send Jim over the edge, even considering the fact that Spock had just sucked one testicle into his mouth, tongue making random patterns over it, keeping Jim on the edge.  
  
“Spock, if you love me, you will _let me come_ ,” Jim demanded, absolutely desperate for some real stimulation. The light touch was driving him insane and he bucked into the touch as though that would help, as though that would convince Spock to increase his pressure. Jim squirmed, desperate and panting for a stronger touch.  
  
It was the wrong thing to say, of course, because it made Spock stop. His hot hands left Jim’s cock, his tongue left the general vicinity of his genitals and Spock sat back on his heels, gazing down at Jim, mouth swollen from more than kisses, and the mere thought made desire curl in his belly. Jim made a sound that was verging on a whimper, high and tense. “Please,” Jim said, scrabbling to find purchase and pull Spock back down to him. Gazing down at Jim, Spock raised an elegant brow that was so classically Spock- the real Spock, the Spock that Jim had fallen in love with- that Jim was on him in a flash, using all of his skills to keep Spock beneath him. There were probably a myriad of stronger holds that would keep Spock from escaping, even considering his greater strength, but none of them allowed Jim to touch Spock like he wanted and so he would make do.  
  
Using all of the leverage Jim could gain from using his full weight to keep Spock in place, Jim immediately set to work on creating a hickey on Spock’s neck, grinding down with his hips to release some of the pressure on his cock. They rubbed against each other for a moment, nothing more than pure frotting. Jim leaned back to see his handiwork, nodding a little at the green color, satisfied that he was marking Spock in turn. “Green is a _glorious_ color on you,” Jim purred, in his element with Spock at his mercy, even if it wasn‘t the wisest thing to be doing with the fires of _pon farr_ doing their best to burn the pair to ashes. “And I really do think that turnabout is fair play. Now what else can I do to you?” Jim wondered aloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to Spock’s lips, knowing that he was playing with fire (literally, and the thought made a laugh catch in his throat) to be fighting back instead of submitting. Jim was of the opinion that if Spock got really antsy, he would move and there was nothing Jim could do to stop him, so he figured he’d enjoy it while he could.  
  
Jim completely bypassed Spock’s hands. He already knew they were far more sensitive than his own, probably because of Spock’s telepathy, but he wasn’t interested in much beyond that yet. This would be an exploratory journey; he could work on focusing on Spock’s most sensitive areas to drag him over the edge at a later date. So he set to his task, noting that unlike Jim’s own hypersensitive nipples, Spock’s only made him shift in a decidedly interested fashion. Conversely, his belly was extraordinarily sensitive, and as Jim kissed and sucked his way across the firm plane, he was exceedingly gratified to hear Spock make all sorts of interesting noises that made Jim want to spend hours on Spock‘s stomach to see if he could make him come from that alone.  
  
Almost as an afterthought, Jim pressed his tongue into Spock’s bellybutton, thrusting it in deep. Spock threw his head back, letting out an obscene moan that was just as primal as the little gasps and groans he’d managed to pull out of Spock while he’d been playing with his hands. Just to see what would happen, Jim blew down over all that skin, gratified when Spock’s cock grew impossibly harder, bobbing against Jim’s upper chest. Jim smirked, and promptly began nipping and suckling at the skin around Spock’s bellybutton, pausing occasionally to blow cool air over it all, making Spock shudder and keen time and again. Jim only relented and tongue-fucked him every so often. However, Jim sighed finally, moving onto Spock’s hipbones, marking his presence there, marking that if he was going to be owned, he was going to do some owning in return.  
  
“Yes,” Spock hissed, “Yours.” Jim glanced up, mouth curling a little as he realized that with as much contact as they had and the bond in place, blazing in their minds, of course Spock would be able to tell what he was thinking.  
  
Jim stopped what he was doing in order to kiss Spock, long and slow and impossibly deep. “Yes,” Jim agreed. “Mine. You are mine, and I am yours.” It was easy to admit, here and now. He glanced up at Spock‘s open face through his lashes, and drank in the sight of Spock’s parted lips, kiss swollen. A deep blue-green flush had risen on Spock’s fair cheeks, his ears were the same color. His hair was mussed too, deep black and smooth strands beginning to form loose curls from the sticky humidity that came from two bodies being so close together in such heat.  
  
He was beautiful, and that simple thought made Jim‘s heart ache a little.  
  
That voluntary acknowledgment of ownership seemed to set something off in Spock once more because Jim found himself on his knees, Spock pressed against him from arms to back to thigh, breath hot against the back of his neck. Jim was pinned in position for a long moment while Spock seemed to be simply content to remain glued to Jim in all possible ways. Then he backed off, slipping down Jim’s body.  
  
 _Is this it_? Jim wondered, breath catching in his chest. He waited, facing forward, unsure of where the next touch would be.  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh _God_.  
  
Spock’s hot, rough, exquisitely strong tongue had just run over his entrance, and Jim came undone.  
  
Jim’s mind blanked completely for one incredible moment when it felt like a slipstream of pleasure had been hurled directly into his brain. It was a single, gentle touch, just barely brushing over his perineum and hole. It was a brief touch, but Jim instantly wanted _more_. He pushed back, trying to get more of that elusive tongue, of the wetness and roughness. He let a little choked noise out, already too far gone for rational thought.  
  
It seemed all the permission that Spock needed, because Spock’s tongue was soon fluttering against him, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough. Spock’s tongue darted over all of Jim’s skin except in the area where Jim needed it most, tongue pressing against the inner skin of Jim’s ass, the texture of rough and hot against cool and smooth undoing him completely. Jim couldn’t even get enough of a thought process together to speak, but he tugged on that sense of Spock in his head, pushing a desperate, wordless plea through it. Spock ignored it for a long second, pressing against Jim’s hole but not actually entering it. Jim tried to shove back against the iron grip Spock had on his hips, but it was to no avail; he was completely at Spock’s mercy, though at this point Jim wasn’t sure how that was any different from the rest of their encounter, since he knew perfectly well that the only reason he’d been able to do as much as he had earlier was because Spock had allowed him to do so.  
  
Jim tightened his grip on the bed sheets, feeling the linen threaten to tear under his hands, his muscles straining to get more of Spock’s tongue, more of the blistering heat, more of that intimate touch on such an intimate area of his body. He could feel Spock’s hands tighten in response, locking him in place and refusing to let Jim move despite his best efforts. Jim, however, was getting a better handle on the bond even if he wasn’t even close to grasping the intricacies. He knew enough to snatch at that sense of Spock at the edges of his mind and drag at it, bringing that sense of Spock further into his mind, making Spock pay complete attention to him. He took all of his desire, his lust, his love, his need and shoved it through the bond as Spock had done earlier for it was the closest thing he could come to begging at that moment, words having long since abandoned him because he was too desperate for Spock’s tongue, for his fingers, for his _cock_ …  
  
That was enough, finally, for Spock to press his tongue into Jim, and Jim just about melted into a puddle of goo at the knowledge that it was Spock’s tongue rubbing against his inner walls, Spock’s tongue flickering in and out, good, so good, absolutely great but not quite enough, not yet. Spock pressed in deep, deeper than Jim had ever thought possible in that moment, Spock’s tongue flexing deliciously against his inner walls and widening him in all of the right ways, but Jim knew damn well that he had a prostate, and if it didn’t get some loving, he was _not_ going to be happy.  
  
Jim’s mind began to blur, began to blend at the edges as he crept towards that sense of Spock in his mind, straining for that sense of unity that he’d experienced when they’d fucked out in the Arena earlier. The closer he got to actually having sex with Spock again, the more he needed to have that bond take him over completely, to spread through him with the reassurance that he loved and was loved, that he was one part of a whole, that he was needed and wanted and desired. He wanted his worries to fall away even from the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind, to become once more overtaken by everything that made up Spock.  
  
Now a single, solitary finger was wriggling its way into Jim’s body, and he tensed for a moment, body remembering an old pain that was no longer present. However, this finger was plenty slicked with lube, making the entry smooth and painless, especially given the fact that his entrance had already been widened by Spock’s tongue and most of the damage had been healed earlier. Jim had expected more pain after Spock had taken him dry out on the field. Spock continued his ministrations, tongue still working at Jim’s hole even as a second finger began to press inside, widening the passage, because he was too far gone to stop now. However, a different kind of pressure existed now as Spock’s fingers scissored and worked carefully. Now the tongue at his entrance wasn’t enough to keep Jim occupied, it wasn’t enough to keep him from jerking in Spock’s grip on his hips, which had gentled. And then Spock’s finger’s shifted slightly, and in a way that was becoming all too familiar, Jim’s head emptied itself of thought as pleasure took complete command of his body, making him arch instinctively into the touch, demanding more without words, fighting to keep Spock’s fingers pressed firmly against his prostate, anxious to feel himself shake and shudder apart underneath Spock’s attentive hands.  
  
Spock backed off, however, and only occasionally tapped his prostate when Jim showed signs of being capable of rational thought. And so Spock managed to successfully keep Jim on the knife’s edge, pleasure stemming from Spock’s hands, his tongue, racking his body until he couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
“Spock!” Jim gasped, the first word he’d managed in countless minutes, and it was a plea, a compromise, a laugh and a cry and so many things that Jim couldn’t even begin to understand them- he only hoped that Spock would catch the nuances and meet him halfway, because if Spock didn‘t, Jim just might tumble over the edge.  
  
For a horrific second, Spock removed his fingers and Jim was bereft, needing something to fill him inside and out and he canted his hips, questing for the missing fingers. And then there was Spock’s cock, fiery hot, nudging at his entrance finally, _finally_ , and Jim couldn’t help the little tremble of breath that slipped out of him, and Jim could feel his mind slipping even further into Spock’s, seeking out the bond and bringing it fully to life, stoking the fires once more, letting them rise to a fever pitch.  
  
Jim was too far gone then to really be cognizant of his pain as Spock entered him fully, thighs and abdomen practically glued to Jim’s body, desperate for the connection that skin to skin contact provided, the all over contact intensifying Spock‘s telepathy. He was too swept up in the way the bond was glowing in his mind, the incandescence taking precedence as Jim let the love they share twirl around them, binding them still closer. Spock had just enough memory, just enough awareness to wait a precious second before thrusting, using Jim’s physical and mental reactions to Spock’s body to nail his prostate with unerring precision, bringing pleasure to them both. From there, it was really just an endless wave of unceasing pleasure and exquisite agony that sent Jim careening towards the edge, barely able to process all the things Spock was doing to his body.  
  
But something stopped him from leaping off the cliff, however, some sense of lingering incompleteness, and Jim quested around their mindscape, needing to know what was missing. There was a question lingering in the air, and Jim was desperate to know the answer. And there- the physical representation of their bond, the last stage to link as completely as they had been earlier.  
  
“Always, Spock. You don’t have to ask,” Jim panted, making sure that same sentiment flooded their mindscape, unsure of how he‘d managed to speak with his body burning up from the inside out.  
  
Spock’s hand slipped up his body, questing for Jim’s temple as he muttered the words, “Never and always-”  
  
 _Touching and touched_.  
  
There it was again, the knowledge that there was no Jim, there was only _Jim-and-Spock_ and a serenity and bliss rolled over him, the tangible feeling of being cherished, of being adored and being _loved_.  
  
Now his orgasm built rapidly as Spock continued to aim for his prostate, as Jim felt himself being fucked and fucking as pleasure made his thighs shake and his arms threaten to give out, as he arched back to get more of the sheer bliss, but even more than that, he arched back to get more of Spock, of his heat and his breath and his kisses. At the thought Spock mouthed briefly at Jim’s neck, and it was just one more brilliant spark of pleasure that traveled down his body, meeting the sparks where Spock was playing with his nipples yet again, where he was stroking his hip, running light fingers down his cock. Jim turned his fact towards Spock, catching his lower lip and sucking on it, and in their minds he could see how the feeling rolled through Spock and he smiled, laughing breathlessly that he was able to affect Spock as much as Spock was affecting him.  
  
The muscles in his abdomen tightened, his balls drawing up into his body, and the thought- _not alone, I’m not_ \- flitted across the front of their brain, but Jim knew the thought was his own, and it made him grin and clench down around Spock, gratified when Spock’s hot breath stuttered against his neck, and then Spock was letting their lust and desire and need and love and those more indefinable thoughts and emotions rise, letting it swamp them both, and it was the very last thing he needed, because then the physical and the mental and the emotional all melded together and then Jim was shuddering, crying out and falling and coming and coming and _coming_ but because he never took losing that well, he made sure he dragged Spock over the edge with him, together in this and in all things and made sure that they held each other as they fell when their orgasms rushed through them, as they _flew_ -  
  
As before, it was a long time before Jim was able to truly think again, the pleasure having successfully short-circuited his brain. He closed his eyes, focusing on the simple things, like the sweat and semen smell of the bed sheets. It wasn’t a particularly nice smell, but it helped center Jim in the physical world, anchoring him against the fact that yet again, his senses seemed to have been rewired. He could only assume it was a hazard of having someone else in your brain when it normally only used one operating system, and it was with a philosophical acceptance that Jim realized that he‘d be experiencing it for the rest of his life. It was an idle thought, and Jim let it slip away without worry as he basked in the low thrum of joy in his veins. Of course, in the afterglow he had no filter on his mouth, so in a dazed and slurring voice that he didn’t wholly recognize as his own, Jim murmured, “S’always like that?” because surely orgasms wouldn’t always be like that, like his very soul was being sucked out his cock.  
  
Not that he’d really have a problem with it, should that be the case.  
  
It was only when he’d spoken that he became truly aware of his body once more. He’d collapsed on the bed, arms and legs giving out as he’d thought they’d do earlier. His arms, which were under his body, beneath the weight of both Jim and Spock were falling asleep and with supreme effort he hauled them from beneath their bodies and let them flop against the bed. He was honestly surprised he’d lasted as long as he had. Spock was on top of him as a dead weight, their limbs tangled together in a way that was surprisingly comfortable, and surprisingly reassuring. Spock’s raspy voice, when he finally spoke, was incredibly close to his ear, and Jim shivered a little at that dark voice and hot breath. “I do not know. I only know that you are able to affect me as no others of my acquaintance have. It may be due to the bond we share, which has many layers to it that neither of us fully understands at this point. But we have a lifetime to explore them,” Spock finished, and there was definitely a purr in his voice that made a hot bolt of desire race down Jim’s spine. However it didn’t seem to matter how willing Jim was to go another round with Spock mentally, because the flesh simply couldn’t stand up quite yet. Yet somehow the lust pooling in his belly, Spock’s body against his, the way they breathed in tandem- all of that was enough for now.  
  
They rested there for another few moments before Jim felt an uncomfortable prickling at his brow, the heat beginning to be a bit too much. Spock sat up then, carefully rolling Jim over, lithe form reaching over to the side table once more to put the lube back in its place and to pick up a carafe of water, which he held to Jim’s lips. Jim sipped gratefully, enjoying being taken care of. Spock followed the water with a slow, gentle kiss. Gentle though it was, Jim’s lips were kiss-swollen enough that even so light a touch created a pleasant ache. He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the afterglow that was still making his body tingle. He could definitely get used to this.  
  
It would be another two days at the minimum before Spock’s _pon farr_ would pass, perhaps three. As before, the fires of Spock’s Time had banked once they’d both orgasmed, and Jim figured he’d have at least another half hour, maybe longer, before he had to worry about the fires rising once more. Also as before, Spock took the time to attend to Jim’s injuries, but this time his gaze was clearer, their mutual satisfaction helping to keep the biological imperative at bay.  
  
When they were once more clean and comfortable, Jim curled against Spock’s side, running his fingers across Spock’s ribs, rather surprised at the low rumble that began in his chest that sounded like nothing so much as a purr. Jim was on the verge of dropping off, planning on catching what rest he could before their marathon continued, when Spock shifted slightly under Jim’s hands and turned to face him.  
  
“What does ‘riding’ refer to when it pertains to sex?” Spock asked, face composed.  
  
Jim was not particularly composed, and any chance at sleep promptly slipped away as his eyes flew open, staring at Spock like he‘d grown a second head. “Um, what?”  
  
“While we were having coitus-”  
  
“Oh God, if you love me even a little, you will _never_ refer to sex as anything but sex, fucking, or if you’re feeling rather sentimental and really want to mortify me, making love. Coitus, copulation and any variation thereof is off the table,” Jim groaned, somehow finding the energy to roll his eyes, though he didn’t move out of Spock’s grasp. “And do we really have to do this now? There’s this thing called the afterglow, Spock, and I was very much enjoying it before you interrupted it.”  
  
“Jim?” Spock prompted when it was clear that Jim was hoping Spock had been suitably distracted. Jim sighed, burying his head in Spock‘s chest and resigning himself to the conversation. “I caught your interest in potentially ‘riding me’ while we were engaged in…sex.” Spock raised an eyebrow, and his eyes were clearer still, the fires of _pon farr_ a dim memory for a temporary time.  
  
Jim bit his lip. He just knew that a flush was coloring his cheeks at this very instant. “Um, well, you see, riding someone is when you…umm…” Jim had never been forced to explain sex, he’d always just done it, and he very much wished he was capable of demonstrating it at the moment, but no such luck. He blew out a quick, frustrated breath. “Basically, instead of me being beneath you, I’m on top of you, but you’re still in me. And then I, erm, move myself, I guess.” His explanation sounded weak at best, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say- simply the offer to ride his partner had always been enough before.  
  
“And you enjoy this?” Spock’s face was neutral.  
  
“Um, yeah.”  
  
“Very well. Then we shall do it. You appear to be a considerably sexual creature; also amongst your thoughts were ideas of ‘fisting’, ‘milking’ and ‘bondage’, as well as many other sexual acts. I’d like to perform them on you as well. I shall have to rely on your experience, since I have not done such things before.”  
  
Jim’s eyebrows attempted to mate with his hairline. “You’ve never had sex before?” he exclaimed. “I popped your fucking cherry?” Jim draped a hand over his brow and laughed, a little helplessly. “Jesus Christ, if that was your first time, you just put me to complete and total shame,” Jim said with yet another a helpless laugh. “Perhaps it shouldn’t be my experience we should be relying on.” Jim sighed. “Anyways, what brought all this on?” He queried.  
  
Spock, however, was implacable and shook his head, moving Jim’s arm so he could meet Jim’s eyes. “You are more experienced,” he said simply, but there was a low growl of jealously undercutting the words, jealously at the fact that there had been others that had known Jim as intimately as Spock had. Well, not completely, Spock realized, for no one had touched Jim’s mind, and Spock immediately resolved to keep it that way. “However, due to the fact that you will be practicing such sexual acts with only me from now on, I am willing to acknowledge your greater sexual exposure and have you demonstrate such positions.” There was something primal and sexual in Spock’s voice, and it made Jim swallow as he said, “I have no doubt that soon the memories of your time with me will take precedence over those of your previous partners. You are, after all, _mine_.”  
  
But Jim couldn’t let Spock win completely, not without some proper teasing. “I’ll make a list for you of every sexual act I’ve performed. It might be a long one. And we’ll have to set ourselves goals, and make sure that we’ve got the proper equipment.”  
  
“Very well, I will willingly oversee the making of such a list,” Spock agreed complacently, stealing another hot kiss from Jim’s mouth. Jim arched up into it as best as he could, eyes slipping closed as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. “We will have to investigate the order in which we perform these acts so as to best complete our task. We will have to consider the complexity of the acts as well, and prioritize which acts to perform first based on potential pleasure.”  
  
“Yes,” Jim whispered. “That sounds like an excellent plan of action. Very proper, very formal, with everything itemized and prioritized and I’m sure the lists will even be color coded,” Jim continued between more kisses with Spock. He loved the way Spock kissed, like he was paying complete and utter attention to nothing more than figuring out the exact way to suck on Jim’s tongue to make his toes curl. “It will be fabulous. It will be the list of sexual acts to end all lists of sexual acts. It will put all previous lists to shame.”  
  
And though neither of them said it, not now with the fires rising in both their minds (Jim snorted mentally- he should have known that half an hour was a high estimation) yet again, the list was a promise to start a life together, silly as it might seem on the surface to have a list of sexual acts be the center of such a promise. It was enough for them though, enough for Jim to agree to let Spock remove all other loves from his life and lighten his cares with his touch and his smile and his passion, it was enough for Spock to concede to such emotional and sometimes illogical ways of doing things not only in their sexual lives but in their normal ones too. It might not be easy, it might not always be fun, it might not always work out the way they wanted it to, and they’d both have to make great sacrifices that would tear them apart if they weren’t careful.   
  
Even if they did everything they could, it still might not be enough.  
  
Jim curled his hand around the back of Spock’s neck, studying his face. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, meeting Spock’s eyes. He didn’t flinch from that dark gaze. Spock certainly deserved the apology and more, and it was high time that Jim paid back a little more of the kindness that he’d been shown. “I probably have a lot of explaining to do.”  
  
Spock rested his forehead against Jim’s, breath gusting out. “Now is not the time for explanations, though I will admit that neither of us handled this situation very well,” he admitted in a surprisingly wry tone. More than his words, however, the sensed of being wronged that still lingered in Jim’s mind from the bond eased, just a little. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. “We did not speak, did not attempt to purposefully forge an emotional tie to one another despite both of us being intelligent enough to know it was a good decision. I blocked the bond, ignoring Vulcan social mores that indicate we should leave our bond open, preventing us from learning about each other as we should have, keeping our feelings and our minds from touching each other. You did not inform me that you intended to challenge. I cannot say that I am not…” Spock shook his head, and the feeling of absolute betrayal that swept over Jim was terrible, making the Human catch his breath, “It will not be an easy task, not in the least. It is a lesson, I think, for the future, to work on our communication skills, for now that we are bound together, I find myself unwilling to let you go.” Spock’s face softened, and there was the seed of forgiveness there which made Jim close his eyes so the suspicious wateriness was hidden.  
  
To cover his reaction, Jim laughed, just a little. “I share your sentiments,” he breathed back with a wink, then sobered. He reached out, running his fingers across Spock’s cheek, tracing the line of his ear. “I don’t know what you mean, that you blocked the bond, but we can talk about that too, later, when your Time has passed. And we will,” he said, with a sudden steel conviction, “make this work.”  
  
Spock’s mouth curled up in the tiniest of smiles, his joy blazing, and Jim found himself grinning, wide and guileless in return. Things weren’t perfect, of course, and never would be, but they had a shot now, and Jim couldn’t help but be thankful. He would always regret how they came to his point, perhaps, but for now…  
  
Well, for now, they began with a kiss, the kiss to seal their love, to being their life together, the bond singing joyously at the contact.  
  
“I guess,” Jim murmured against Spock’s lips, laughter lacing his voice, “You don’t have to marry Prince Charming to get a shot at a fairytale ending.”  
  
“And they lived happily ever after,” Spock confirmed, and that brilliant smile was back, shining out of his eyes.  
  
Jim laughed, cheerful and warm and bright, and pulled Spock down to meet him.

**Author's Note:**

> This entire story is based on this [ transcript ](http://ladyblahblah.livejournal.com/55915.html#cutid1) by the clever, smart and charming [](http://ladyblahblah.livejournal.com/profile)[ladyblahblah](http://ladyblahblah.livejournal.com/) and [](http://ninjaboots.livejournal.com/profile)[ninjaboots](http://ninjaboots.livejournal.com/). I totally blame the pair of them for writing such entrancing ~~porn~~ story ideas. I couldn't resist the urge to adopt this cute little bunny and give it a nice home. This is the result. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'm finally transferring this to AO3...like...seven years later.


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